Curtain Call
by Fritz Baugh
Summary: April 2004, Timeline Year 22.The final showdown with the Ravisher and his master, Lord Atrocity. LaLlarona's prophesy is coming true, the brutal plan of the God of Death moves forward, and stopping it may require one man to make the ultimate sacrifice.
1. Chapter 1

**Ghostbusters West Coast: Curtain Call, Part One**

From the files of Dr. Fritz V. Baugh, Official Historian  
GBI Case File No. GBWC-2004-22/100

* * *

**April 17, 2004  
Los Angeles California  
Ghostbusters Omnibus Timeline Year 22**

* * *

The wispy, ephemeral woman looked sad as she spoke to the wiry man with slicked-back brown hair standing before her

_Beware the snare of Anpu...seek those who follow the neon banner of the rat...the ludicrous one and the dragon of victory, the healer and the binder of spectres...but guard yourself, for the ten will be sundered..._

John Lipsyte awoke, in a sweat.

That dream had intruded on his sleep a few times over the last year...most memorably the night before the open recruitment ...

Which made it all the more incredible that the man he saw in the dream...the man the ephemeral woman was talking too...was already a member of the embryonic Ghostbusters West Coast team.

John got up and splashed some water on his face. It had been his blessing, and his curse, for as long as he could remember. Indeed, his first clear memory, at the tender age of three, was a nightmare where the one of his favorite cartoon characters, the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man, came to life and started destroying things...

Two nights before the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man was conjured up at Central Park West in New York City.

_You're a natural latent psychic..._ Joey had said, shortly after John had joined and he and Fritz had run a series of tests on him. _You show signs of both sensitive and physical psionic abilities, but you're not focused...your potential is diffused._

Joey had been a big help...but the one thing he had never told anyone else was that the man in the dream was Jeremy Hicks.

* * *

**Elsewhere...**

* * *

"Ravisher..." the deep voice called.

There was a flash of smoke, and the jackal-like form of the Ravisher, sporting a hoodie and taloned hands, appeared before the armored form in the throne (who also sported a jackal-like head).

_"You summoned me, Lord Atrocity?"_

"The phase of the moon is almost right....I will need just one more thing to unleash the power of the Eye of Apophis..."

_"I am flattered you think of me. Milord...instead of the Geistimanns..."_

"They have been excellent servants...but their loyalty is first to themselves. You, on the other hand, have given your soul to me. Besides...I think you will enjoy this errand..."

* * *

**A Posh Address In Beverly Hills  
April 18, 2004**

* * *

The limo glided down the avenue lined with posh houses. It came up to one in particular, and the driver stopped in front of the armored gates.

_"Name and business?"_

"Doctor Peter Venkman to see Miz Bartholomew." the driver answered, in a crisp British accent.

_"One moment..."_ came the response. _"__You're confirmed....I'm buzzing you in now."_

"Bloody pretentious jackasses all over the bloody place..." the driver muttered as the gates opened and he guided the car in.

The car parked, and the driver got out and opened the passenger door. He held out his hand and a woman took it, using his firm grip to help pull herself out of the car. Twenty six, and with shoulder-length strawberry blonde hair, Chelsea Aberdeen may not have been Hollywood glamorous, but still turned a head or two.

"Thank you, Sir." she said to the driver, with a wink. She was currently dressed slightly more formally than her norm, with a blazer, knee-length skirt, hose, and pumps making her look very businesslike.

The driver went over to the other passenger door and opened it, allowing Dr. Peter Venkman, Legend of Ghostbusting, to emerge. A scant six months shy of the dreaded "five-oh", the brown color in his hair was enhanced by dyes (though he admitted that only to his hair dresser and his wife) but the energy in his green eyes was the same as it had ever been.

He was wearing his best suit, one selected for him by his wife (being from the world of classical music, Mrs. Venkman had a clue or two when it came to dressing more formally). "So do you like the limo, Robert?"

Dr. Robert Griffiths, whom Venkman had enlisted to drive them, made a grunting noise. "Not too bad, Dr. V....but I think I prefer the ECTO-1N."

"To each his own, I guess, Robert...I may be biased by any ride that doesn't have me screaming for my life."

"Is Dr. Stantz's driving really that bad?" Robert had to ask.

"Yeah. You ready, Chelsea?"

Chelsea shuffled a couple of the papers in the folder she was holding. "Ready to go, Doctor Venkman."

"How many times have I told you that you can call me Peter?"

"We really need to get this done, Doctor Venkman."

Venkman rolled his eyes and led the younger woman into the house. Robert took a PKE meter out of his pocket and switched it on--a precaution that was why he'd been asked to drive...

Venkman and Chelsea were met by a woman in her late thirties, with short light brown hair, and dressed in sweat pants and a t-shirt. "I just hope there aren't any paparazzi hiding in the bushes...I'd hate to end up on the front of _Lurid Weekly Gazette_ looking like this..."

Venkman greeted her in stereotypical Hollywood fashion, a peck on the cheek. "Forget it, Cath. You look stunning as always. Thanks for letting us see you today..." He turned to Chelsea. "Cath, this is Chelsea Aberdeen, Client Administrator for our West Coast office. Chelsea...Catharine Bartholomew. She was one of my first clients when I went into the agent biz..."

"A pleasure." Chesea said, shaking Catharine's hand.

"The same..." Catharine responded. "Now come on inside and tell me what brings you here..."

She led them into her spacious living room, and had them seated on a large couch opposite the plush chair she sat in. A butler prepared drinks.

Venkman took a sip of his martini. "Cath...I don't have to tell you what today is..."

Cath looked away. "No...I'll never forget coming home, hearing on the news about Jon..."

Chelsea put down her Pepsi (she didn't care for alcohol), and couldn't help but be taken by a memory or two of her own. The joy she'd felt when Fritz had asked her--not one of his brothers, not the coworker who'd been stomping on his heart for the previous couple of years--to attend the premiere of _Dance of the Skeletons_ with him. One year ago today. The delightful jealousy he'd shown when, in short order, Jeremy Hicks and Joey Williams had flirted with her. And the moment it all changed. When a day of fun turned into an abattoir...

"Cath...we've been researching this for the last year...Jon was murdered, and we think we know who by..." Venkman said.

Cath's eyes narrowed. "I thought it some gang banger...the inquest said it was a gang hit...random retaliation against that doctor who'd pissed them off earlier in the day...the doctor who'd actually..." she paused "...saved Jon from the Anaheim attacker."

Venkman shook his head. "That's the official story...but that doctor is now part of my West Coast office too...he was there. It wasn't a gangsta--it was the same monster that had attacked Jon in Anaheim. I know you didn't always believe those stories I told about my days as a Ghostbuster, but..."

"Now let me get this straight, Peter---you actually expect me to believe that Jon was murdered by a ghost?"

"Actually, Cath...it could be even worse." Venkman said. "We now think it was a human being who...well, for lack of a better description, sold his soul for power."

Chelsea knew it was her turn to explain things. "The creature called himself the Ravisher" she said, pulling a picture out of her folder. "There are no photos, but this is a fairly accurate artist rendition--I can vouch for that, because I was there at the Anaheim theatre."

Cath picked up the picture, and studied it. "A dog wearing a hoodie?"

"Miss Bartholomew...the Ravisher made several statements during the attack that created the distinct impression that he acted with a personal dislike of Mister Dennison. And he apparently was someone that, in his own mind at least, Mister Dennison should've known: one thing I distinctly remember him saying is 'You can't be forgetting me, Jonny...c'mon, you know who this is...Or, to be more accurate, who this once was!!!'"

Venkman nodded. "Another bit went like this...'Heh heh heh...I told you you'd regret firing me...' And he specifically, when talking to me, used the word 'revenge' in talking about Jon"

Chelsea produced some more papers. "A few months ago the GBWC's Official Historian and Co-CEO, Dr. Fritz Baugh, was going over the files in regard to this case and made a discovery..." She handed one of the papers to Cath. "January 16, 2003...altercation at Disney Studios...forcible removal of staff writer Joseph Snurf. Threatened bodily injury to director Jon Dennison--according to Dennison, Snurf had just been fired for drinking on job."

"Oh God..." Cath said, looking at the paperwork. There was a picture of a pudgy man with a mustache and a patch over his right eye. "You don't really think..."

"We've spent the last three months trying to get any sort of lead on Joseph Snurf's whereabouts...he didn't have much family, and not a lot of friends, and all of our searches have turned up blank: as far as the world knows, at this moment, Joseph Snurf disappeared sometime in late March of 2003. Not a single friend or family member has heard from him since. His bank and credit card accounts haven't been touched since then." Chelsea explained.

"Another one of my West Coast guys used to work for Disney" Venkman continued. "He confirms that there was tension around the _Skeleton_ crew before Snurf was fired...he'd had lots of arguments with Dennison about the way the story was going--he was mad as hell that Dennison didn't accommodate one of the A-list voice cast, fired him and replaced him with an unknown named Chuck Sherwood. By the time Snurf was shown the door, he and Jon did not like each other anymore..."

"Enough to do something like this? To get transformed into a monster and murder him?" Cath broke in. "I just...I just can't believe it..."

Peter Venkman not only had a PhD in Psychology, he also had a natural gift for "reading" people. It was one trait he inherited from his father, Charlie, who had often used it for rather unscrupulous ends. "Cath...this is only a guess...but did you know Snurf?"

Cath looked away and buried her face in her hands. Chelsea was so stunned by the question (which seemed so completely out of nowhere to her) that she turned to face Venkman with a shocked look.

"Well...yeah..." Cath admitted. "You knew I was involved with Jon before he met his latest trophy wife, Taffy..."

Venkman nodded.

"It must have been almost two years ago that Jon introduced me to Joe at a party. They were still friends then, and Joe and I ended up hitting it off pretty well. Within a month we were..."

"Getting along really really well?" Venkman asked.

Cath turned her eyes down. "Yeah."

"After a while, Joe began to fight with Jon, and I couldn't help but think it was because Joe was jealous that Jon and I'd had a relationship, even if it was long over."

"This...puts a whole new perspective on things." Venkman had to admit. Chelsea was still silent.

* * *

Robert was seriously contemplating taking a catnap when the PKE meter he was holding began to go wild.

"Oh hell..." he cursed, putting the meter away and heading for the house.

* * *

"Cath...we're not here to embarrass you or bring back bad memories...but it becomes more crucial than ever we know--is Joe Snurf the Ravisher?"

_"Why ask her, Smart Guy?"_ a sepulcher voice with an unnatural resonance sounded.

"Chelsea, Cath, Get down!!!" Venkman commanded.

"What in the..." Catharine Bartholomew asked, understandably confused. She looked around, realizing her living room was filling with swirls of smoke.

The smoke congealed into a shape...man-sized, more or less, with a jackal-like head and wearing a hooded sweatshirt. _"When you can ask the genuine article?"_

"Is that..." Cath asked, horrified.

Chelsea nodded. "The Ravisher..."

"DOWN!!!" another voice commanded, and a beam of protons slammed into the side of the Ravisher's head.

_"Ahhh!__ What the f***?!?!"_

Robert Griffiths jumped into the room, brandishing a Proton Pistol. The belt hidden by his sport coat, the weapon (the same one created for Kylie Griffin in 1997) had been perfectly concealed until it was needed. Which was right now.

_"I remember you...you were one of those idiots at the Sanchez Diner..."_

"One of the 'idiots' that practically caught your bloody ass before you punked out."

Venkman meanwhile had grabbed Cath and Chelsea both, and ran them out of the living room as quietly as possible. They ran toward the limo.

_"I've gotten a lot better since then..."_

"So have we, Dingleberry..." Robert snarled, and fired on the Ravisher again.

The Ravisher took the first shot, then dodged the second Cath Bartholomew's wide-screen TV taking the shot instead. _"That'll probably come out of your bill..."_

* * *

"Get'r in the car and lock the doors!!!" Venkman yelled to Chelsea, as he popped open the trunk. A Mark 4 Proton Pack was sitting there waiting.

"Secure!" he heard Chelsea's muffled voice as the locks on the limo clicked into place. Only he or Robert, having keys, could get inside the car now.

Venkman smirked with satisfaction as he heard the familiar sound of his pack arming. "Just try something now, jackal boy..."

* * *

Robert fired again, this time connecting solid. The monster writhed in the beam--but he knew he didn't have much time. The Mark 3 had a limited power supply and containment capacity. He unhooked a ghost trap from his belt and flung it underneath the undulating monster...

Which kicked it straight back to him, hitting Robert in the head, dazing him. The beam cut out.

"Bloody hell!!!" was all Robert could get out before the Ravisher backhanded him into Catharine Bartholomew's coffee table.

_"Like I said, Ghostsucker, I've gotten a lot better over the last year. I know a little strategy called 'rope a dope'...and I certainly know a distraction when I see it. Tootles..."_

With that, the Ravisher vanished into a puff of smoke.

* * *

Venkman was watching the door to Cath's house, a bead of sweat running down his face, when he heard a shout coming from inside the car.

He turned to see a familiar shade of smoke billowing out of the cracks in the back seat windows. "Son of a f***ing bitch!!!" he shouted as he fumbled for the keys to open the door.

When he did, a scant ten seconds later, Chelsea was alone in the back seat, coughing and choking the acrid smoke. Venkman dragged her out as gently as he could manage.

"Aberdeen...talk to me...what happened..."

"He just...*cough* appeared...he grabbed her, said something about 'sharing a backseat again after all this time'...and they both vanished. *cough* *cough*..."

"Sit down, Chelsea...just breathe in the nice clean...well, the nice not-so-clean-but-better-than-Ravisher-fumes LA air..."

Robert ran up, limping. He took a quick look at the scene. "I take it I'm bloody too late..."

Venkman nodded, holstering his thrower. "The jerk really has gotten better--he played us like suckers and got away with the girl right under our nose. I hate this--this sucks!!!"

"Any idea what ol' Jackal-Puss wants with her? Why not kill her outright like with Dennison?"

"None at all, Robert..." Venkman replied. "But I'm pretty sure we're not gonna like those answers when we do find out..."

* * *

**April 25, 2004**

* * *

Dr. Kyle Stevens grimaced as he looked out the window. The rain was coming down so hard that even with the wipers of the ECTO-1S (a converted SWAT van) turned to maximum, he was lucky to see a hundred feet in front of him.

"Man..." Dr. Andrew Harness griped from the back. "I thought LA didn't get weather like this...this is like monsoon season..."

"Of course LA gets weather like this." Dr. Jeff Nash replied. "The mudslides have to start somehow."

Peter Kong and Micheal Chad, having a head-to-head _Genero__ Fighter_ battle on their Game Boys, both chuckled. "Hey, remember I'm in the van, Creepy. We'll be okay..." Chad grinned.

Jeff mumbled to himself, remarking that it was bad enough Harness coined that silly nickname, but to make it worse since then half the team (the half that saw themselves as budding comedians) latched onto it too.

Kyle shook his head as he switched the radio station. "At least that job was inside...I'd hate to think how soaked we'd be otherwise..."

_"The National Weather Service is forecasting, you guessed it, rain rain and more rain for the LA area"_

Jeff flipped the radio speaker the middle finger.

_"...Other news, the LAPD confirms that security footage taken at her house confirms the allegation of Ghostbusters International's Peter Venkman that actress Catharine Bartholomew was apparently abducted by the same assailant that attacked director Jon Dennison one year ago..."_

"Thank goodness for those cameras." Andy quipped. "Otherwise the damn fools'd probably think Dr. V did it."

_"...described as wearing a costume resembling a 'dog in a hoodie', the assailant is clearly seen menacing Miss Bartholomew and battling one of the members of LA's own Ghostbusters franchise..."_

"Good press? Is that allowed?" Peter chimed in.

Jeff squinted from the passenger seat. "Kyle, is that what I think it is?"

"If you think it's an incredibly welcome neon orange Ghostbuster sign, then yes." Kyle exhaled loudly. "We're almost there."

"I told you we'd make it..." Chad said smugly.

Andy leaned in close to Kyle and Jeff. "Hey...what say we make him walk the last two hundred feet?"

* * *

"Just awesome news, guys....I mean it, I knew our new comic was going to be huge, but a complete sell out? And now you're talking about a second printing? I love this! I love this a lot!!!"

When the five members of the GBWC South Team disembarked from the ECTO-1S, Venkman was sitting at Chelsea's desk using the phone. "I mean, it's funny being drawn to look sorta like Bill Murray and all of us wearing the same color, but hey, it's what the fans wanted, right? I can live with a little creative interpretation. Look, I gotta go--I promised my wife I'd call her back in the Apple before bedtime, so I'll catch you later..."

"Obscene phone call, Doctor V?" Andy deadpanned.

"Guys at 88MPH telling me how much obscene money we're making off that new comic...I tell you, they can't keep that thing in stock..."

Jeff rolled his eyes as he shucked his gloves and utility belt. "You don't have to tell me...the seventh was a nightmare--lots of fanboys wanting to buy the book from an authentic Ghostbuster..."

"I know. I should've signed some copies for you like I did those stores in New York..."

"Probably just as well you didn't. If the fans found out I probably would've been robbed..."

Chad yawned loudly and sauntered off....Peter Kong was still looking at his Game Boy. "At least I got one round over him...I guess that the Technicolor Yawn is useful after all..." Still, he was beginning to really hate losing to Chad constantly...

Kyle and Andy went over to the still open garage door, and looked out. "Darn LA kids don't know how to handle this...we get gullywashers like this all the time back in Tennessee..."

Kyle nodded. "Alabama too..." He almost said something, but stopped. Andy would probably think he was crazy, but there was something about this storm he just somehow didn't like...

* * *

**Elsewhere...**

* * *

The statue stood unfazed by the pouring rain beating down upon it. Part of a private collection, the piece mostly amazed visitors by being so grand spankingly ugly--the sculpture was of a creature that resembled an unholy cross between a gargoyle and a Doberman Pinscher

There was a crack of lightning.

The eye of the statue began to glow an angry red...there was a cracking noise...another...more...stronger...the surface of the statue was criss-crossed by spider-vein cracks...and then pieces began to fall off...

Within another two minutes, the pedestal stood empty save a pile of stone rubble.

* * *

Jeremy Hicks, GBWC North Team, looked up from his sandwich. "What?"

Robert Griffiths, eating and trying to watch _Wheel of Fortune_, looked back at him quizzically. " 'What?' What?"

Jeremy shrugged. "I dunno...I thought somebody said something to me...I guess probably something from the TV echoing." It couldn't have been Robert and it couldn't have been Joey Williams, who was snoring loudly from the couch.

"Probably" Robert agreed.

* * *

Dr. Ron Daniels looked out the window of the computer room. "No way I'm making it back to Stanford in this crap...looks like you guys are stuck with me for a few more days. The Dean will be mad, but hell, what's the worst he can do? Fire me?"

Chelsea was seated next to Dr. Fritz Baugh, who was studying some screen on one of the computers. "What you working on, Fritz?"

"I was collating some of the PK traces from the general scan systems...monitoring the general flow of PK in the LA area..." he answered.

Ron looked around at him. "I would take it that since you're noting it the results are not so good."

"Ronald, assume this cupcake is the normal PK flow in the LA area..."

Ron shook his head with mock indignation. "For shame, Doctor Baugh, I though the Professor trained you better than that--GBI's standard unit for normal PKE levels is a Twinkie..."

"That's not the point." Fritz retorted, Chelsea giggling a little bit next to him. "The readings I'm getting right now are between thirty and thirty five cupcakes...and it appears to be rising..."

"Okay. Let me say it." Chelsea chimed in. "That's a big cupcake."

* * *

"Of course I'll make it back by the Mood Slime concert, Dana...I told you I would and I promised Oscar..." Venkman was now talking to his wife in New York. "You know I'm damn proud of that kid and his talent--he gets that from you of course. Well, yeah, him too, but to hear Andre tell it my influence 'warped' it..."

"I could swear the rain is just getting harder..." John Lipsyte said, looking out the window.

"Nah...listen, give my love to Oscar and Jess. And of course I love you oodles" With that he made exaggerated kissing sounds into the phone. After a few seconds he exploded with laughter. "Take care, Dana...Bye..."

"Who's 'Mood Slime'?" John asked.

"My son's rock band." Venkman answered, Cheshire grin appearing. "I'm of course quite biased, but they're pretty damn good..." Venkman looked out the window and whistled mournfully at the look of outside.

"I'm glad I don't have to drive in that..." John remarked. "Even if we get a call it's Robert's problem..."

Fritz and Chelsea walked into the garage/reception area, Chelsea wearing a raincoat and holding an unopened umbrella. "Hell, it's still coming down like cats and dogs..." she grumbled.

"You know what I think..." Venkman said. "I think I'm going to take this opportunity to take advantage of Joey's hospitality and use that lavish VIP guest room he set aside for me." It was true enough--with a lot of space in the former warehouse, creating a few extra bedrooms had been no problem, including one specially set aside for Peter Venkman's use.

Fritz looked thoughtful for a moment as he and Chelsea walked over to her red Ford Escort. "Perhaps, considering the nature of the weather, you should consider doing likewise..."

She looked at him with a bit of a suspicious smirk. "You just want me to stay here with you tonight..."

"I will admit having you on the premises instead of driving in this meteorological disaster would do my nerves a great deal of good. But let us not forget..." he turned to scowl at Venkman and John before they could make any salacious comments. "You _do_ have a room here that has been designated for your private use..." Which was true enough. There were rooms set aside for Venkman, Chelsea, and Ron, and still a few left for other guests or clients.

She shucked the rain coat and umbrella into the backseat of her car, and kissed him on the cheek. "Y'know...since I have like zero enthusiasm for driving in this mess, I think I'll take you up on that sweet offer."

"Remember, we have security cameras in this place, Doctor..." Venkman quipped. "If you go sneaking off to her room in the middle of the night we'll know about it and blackmail you with the tape for the next two or three years..."

Fritz turned beet red. John doubled over in laughter.

* * *

And then the whole world shook violently, as though struck by the hammer of God himself...

* * *

It wasn't the first or certainly the worst earthquake Jeff had ever experienced--he'd lived in LA for a few years now--but as the shockwaves faded and he discovered he was unhurt, a different instinct took over. He realized he was the closest to the team's Ecto Contaiment Unit.

_"Fritz to all Ghostbusters..."_ he heard over the PA system. _"__Please report your status if possible...Chelsea, Doctor Venkman, John and myself are all right...please respond if you hear me..."_

Jeff threw open the door to the large room holding the Ghostbusters West Coast's ECU, and was relieved to see the large, round, red device (externally quite similar to the one used by the New York team since late 1983) humming steadily, without a single red light showing on the display panel.

_"Robert here, I'm with Joey and Jeremy...I f***ing hate earthquakes..."_

_"Daniels here.__ Standing by."_

Jeff grabbed the house phone by the ECU and pressed the "page" button. "Jeff here--I'm okay, and the ECU is stable."

_"Thank God..."_ Andy's voice replied. _"This just ain't our day for weather is it?"_

_"Peter here...Chad and I're all right...though I think my Game Cube is history--I sorta fell on it..."_

_"Kyle here...I can't believe I'm not hearing about any injuries. That's a good thing of course..."_

_"Would somebody tell me what the f*** is going on?!"_ came Dr. Nathaniel "Otter" Masterson's voice.

_"I think that's everybody, Fritz..."_ Kyle noted

_"What the bloody?"_

_"Robert?"_

There was a few seconds pause, and then Joey's voice came on the PA. _"I think everybody better get to the rec room now...there's something on the news you need to see..."_

* * *

Fourteen pairs of eyes stared incredulously at what they were seeing on the screen.

_"...What looks to the world to be an Egyptian pyramid has appeared in Pershing Park in Central LA, simultaneous with the earthquake just a few moments ago. A mayoral spokesman has confirmed that the Mayor has declared a state of emergency for the city, and has asked the Governor for National Guard support..."_

"Vhaat did you say? A pa-eer-a-mid?" Chad said, impersonating the Governor. Everyone else glared at him to shut up.

Fritz was punching the keys of his PKE meter. "I've patched into the area sensors. The good news is that the PKE flow has stabilized..."

"The bad news?" Joey asked with very little enthusiasm.

"The current energy level is one hundred and fifteen cupcakes."

Ron winced visibly. "I changed my mind...I'm going back to Stanford..."

* * *

The man in the suit smiled. He was enjoying the way the evening was going.

He would seem an ordinary man, albeit one in a rather expensive suit and resembling Gerald Butler, but for two unnerving facts...

The rain billowing around him was not touching him, splashing harmlessly against a force field six inches from the man's body.

And he was standing atop the newest feature of Los Angeles's skyline.

In his left hand, a blood red scarab glowed with a pulsing light.

"Yes..." the man said aloud. "All is proceeding as planned...only two more steps to accomplish...the complete corruption and the sacrifice...and the power of the Eye of Apep will reach its zenith...what is will be no more, and what was will be again."

With that, he laughed loud, deep, and hard.

* * *

**To Be Continued**

* * *

F339-72404y  
033


	2. Chapter 2

**Ghostbusters West Coast: Curtain Call, Part Two**

From the files of Dr. Fritz V. Baugh, Official Historian  
Additional material by Jeremy Hicks, GBWC North Team  
GBI Case File No. GBWC-2004-22/100

* * *

**April 25, 2004  
Ghostbusters Omnibus Timeline Year 22**

* * *

Pyramids were not a common sight in the Los Angeles skyline. But earlier in the evening, one had appeared in Pershing Park.

Twelve brave (or is it foolish? Perhaps both...) men now strode through the corridors of the mysterious construct. They had just ditched the flimsy plastic raincoats that had protected them (theoretically) from the torrential downpour outside (though a couple of them had wrung out the water as best they could, carefully folded them back up, and placed them back into their utility belts).

All twelve were dressed in flight suits of identical cut, and all were stylized to have their last names emblazoned on patches on their left chests.

All but one was a member of the Ghostbusters West Coast Division

Williams, Joey-Parapsychologist. The CEO of the GBWC

Venkman, Peter-Parapsychologist and Psychologist. One of the famous founders of Ghostbusters International, and backer of the GBWC. It was not his usual place to go into action with this team, but the crisis was just that big...

Stevens, Kyle-Medical Doctor. One of the leaders of the group.

Lipsyte, John-A budding Latent Psychic.

Kong, Peter-Former animator, and inheritor of a ghost busting legacy of his own.

Hicks, Jeremy-Jack of all trades.

Harness, Andy-veteran Ghostbuster who splits his time as CEO of the East Tennessee franchise.

Griffiths,Robert-Engineer. One of the more sensible members of the group.

Daniels, Ron-Parapsychologist. Leader of the short-lived NOMAD team, now the GBWC's "Mobile Agent"

Nash,Jeff-Occultist. Harness likes to call him "Mister Creepy"

Chad,Micheal-Former game designer and all around good luck charm. Nicknamed "Mister Clutch"

Baugh,Fritz-Physicist. Considered by most the brains of the outfit.

Their flight suits were of an identical khaki tan color except Venkman's-he was wearing his familiar brown flight suit with greenish-blue trim on the cuffs and collar. Venkman and Chad's pant legs weren't tucked into their boots either. The familiar "no-ghost" logo was on everyone's right shoulders, though only Venkman's had the legendary red circle and slash-the rest had the design in neon orange. In a move unusual for all of them save Jeff, Jeremy, and Robert, all were wearing the GBI standard black heavy work gloves.

All but Jeff wore identical work boots. Jeff was the also the only one not bearing a Mark 4 Proton Pack, the latest version of the ubiquitous Ghostbusting weapon (and greatly resembling the same design Venkman's comrades Stantz and Spengler devised back in 1983). Jeff instead weilded a smaller weapon of his own recent design, the Proton Rail Gun

Ron and Robert each had a set of Ecto Goggles perched atop his head.

All had their weapons drawn except Fritz, who was studying a small device that looked like an amped up pocket calculator with a couple of blinking swing-arms at the side-the Model 3.0 of the PKE meter.

"Are you actually able to pick up anything on that?" Joey asked. "I'd think a place like this would fry its circuits like a doughnut at Krispy Kreme..."

"I've had to turn the PK energy level sensors completely off." Fritz responded. "Right now, only the movement of PKE flow is being tracked-which will hopefully give us some warning should we run into...company."

"And there's always company." Ron helpfully added.

"You know my ancestors kicked the Egyptians' ass once?" Jeremy asked John.

"You're kidding..."

"I looked it up: my name Hicks is derived from 'Hyksos'...who invaded Egypt and ran it for like a couple of centuries."

"What the bloody hell does that have to do with this?" Robert asked.

"Nothing" Jeremy shrugged. "Just trying to make some small talk...break the tension..."

Fritz's eyebrows moved closer together.

"I've seen that look on Egon's face enough times..." Venkman noted, gripping his thrower tighter. "What you got?"

"PKE vergence. Two O'clock..."

"But it's past ten..." Chad deadpanned.

"Oh hell..." Joey said as a familiar grayish smoke started to appear.

"Form a circle!" Kyle barked. "We can't let him get behind us!"

Like the well-oiled machine they now were, the team moved into position, all throwers (including Fritz's) armed and ready.

_Well well well...as if there was every any real doubt who the intruders were, right?_ the familiar voice, dripping with evil glee, boomed around them.

"The Ravisher!" Andy snarled.

"Where's Cath, Snurf?" Venkman barked, his normally smooth voice pitched with anger.

_Aw, does your wife know how concerned you are about another woman, Doctor Vee?"_ the Ravisher teased. _"You got her her first gig, right? Hooked her up with Jonny-Boy? Heh...bet you regret that now, don't you?"_

And then the Ravisher appeared, and lunged at Venkman.

But Venkman and the two Ghostbusters right next to him-Joey and Peter-were faster. Three proton beams smashed into the Ravisher, driving him back. He snarled, and started to run. _"Bite me!"_

"Son of a bitch!" Venkman shouted, and took off after the creature. Joey, Peter, and Kyle, the ones closest to him-and propelled, perhaps, by their own distinct memories of the Ravisher's murderous rampage a year ago-tore off also.

But before anyone else could move, there was a loud grinding noise-and a featureless stone door appeared, blocking off the corridor that the Ravisher and the four Ghostbusters had just gone down.

"Shit." Fritz said simply.

"This is startin' to feel more like a trap all the time..." Ron muttered.

"Door? I don't see no stinkin' door!" Andy whooped, and fired his thrower.

All of the others joined in.

After thirty seconds, Fritz's voice broke in. "Switch off!"

"F***!" Andy cursed as he went closer to the door. "Not even a damn scratch!"

Jeff pulled out his walkie-talkie. "Nash to Williams, Venkman, Kong, or Stevens...do you copy?" After repeating the message about four times, he quit. "Either they can't hear me or...they can't hear me."

Ron turned to Fritz. "With Williams gone, you're in charge Dr. B. What's the next move?"

"We don't have much choice but to continue." Fritz shook his head, attaching his thrower to his belt and pulling his PKE meter back out. "Hopefully, we can catch up with Doctor Venkman and the others later."

Jeremy looked around. For the second time that evening, he could've sworn somebody called his name. But noone was there.

* * *

**Outside**

* * *

The creature didn't pause as it ran to the entrance of the pyramid _He is there..._ it's senses told it. Looking like a cross between a doberman and a gargoyle, the creature lived up to its common name of "terror dog"

Two bird-headed guards appeared. "You shall not pass."

"You sub creatures will not impede me!" the terror dog replied, simply charging and knocking them over.

Before they could get up or otherwise act, the terror dog was gone, already running into the depths of the pyramid in search of his prey.

* * *

The Ravisher had moved out of sight, but his evil chuckle kept reverberating down the corridor. Kyle, being the fittest of the four pursuers, had moved into the lead.

They slowed considerably when they came into a room with a firey pit at the bottom, spanned only by a rather narrow bridge.

"Oh, man...I feel like I'm in a comic book..." Peter exclaimed.

"You're kidding?" Joey asked.

"No! This is just like a scene in the Carl Barks classic, _Donald Duck and the Asscrack of Doom_...they got into this room with a narrow bridge over burning lava, and when they were halfway across the bridge started to crumble..."

Just then, Peter's footfall produced a loud cracking noise.

"You and your big mouth!" Joey cried. "Run for it!"

The four Ghostbusters took off for the other side as fast as they could manage, the bridge falling into the inferno behind them.

But it wasn't going to be fast enough.

Kyle had to jump to grab the platform at the far wall (a large, solid rampart built into it)...Venkman in turn had nothing to grab onto but Kyle Stevens. Joey had to grab Venkman, and Peter Kong dangled only a few feet over the lava.

"Damn, Kong...what the hell have you been eating?" Joey grunted.

"Peter...you need to climb up..." Kyle grunted, sweat pouring down his face. "I can't hold all of you for very long..."

"Doctor Vee...you all right?" Joey asked.

"I'm fine." Venkman deadpanned. He was actually in pretty good shape for a man pushing fifty. But he was still a man pushing fifty with two guys wearing heavy proton packs dangling from his legs.

Peter Kong scrabbled his way up his three comrades with as much haste as he could manage. He only stopped to exhale for a few seconds before crying. "Joey! You're next!"

Kyle's face was turning a very ugly shade of red as Joey made his way up over him and Venkman. When he reached the top, the two of them hauled Kyle and Venkman both at once.

The foursome sat and exhaled for a few minutes. "One thing is for sure...even if the others were following us, we're cut off now..." Kyle noted.

"I don't think they were" Peter replied. "There was a door that came down right when I got by-unless they blasted through it..."

"Williams to Baugh, Daniels, Harness, or anybody...yo? Anybody?" Joey tried on his walkie-talkie.

"PK could be playing havoc with radio transmissions..." Venkman speculated. "And don't tell Egon I said that, or he'll think I actually listen to him..." he flashed his famous cheshire grin briefly.

Joey finally got up. "Playtime's over, Ghostbusters...we got a bitch to smoke..."

* * *

**GBCentral**** West**

* * *

Chelsea Aberdeen looked to the north and west out the rain-soaked window, trying to imagine the pyramid where some of her closest friends-and the man she loved-were now risking their lives.

_"Be careful..."_ she'd told them, almost perfunctorily. It didn't seem enough, but she couldn't think of anything else. Shortly after she'd joined GBI, she'd read an essay by the company's very first Client Administrator, Janine Melnitz Spengler, and it had warned her: _In the words of Tom Petty, "The waiting is the hardest part". Your heart's just not gonna beat again until that ECTO-1 comes sliding back through the door, your boys back safe and sound._

"So true..." she signed aloud, noting to herself that Spengler could have identified with her as much as anybody...

Chelsea was dressed in her own Ghostbuster flight suit-the tan one with the neon orange logo identical to the ones worn by the team on the field. Complete with boots and utility belt, the only thing she was missing was a proton pack-and one sat at her desk in easy reach, ready for use if need be.

Sitting next to the desk was Otter, who was working on the team's toaster-it hadn't worked since the earthquake earlier in the evening. "You think they could build things better than this..." he was muttering. "Maybe I ought to design my own toaster...show them all..."

They were both so on edge by the evening's events that the ringing of the phone startled them. Chelsea muttered a curse and grabbed the reciever. "Ghostbusters...I'm sorry, but due to the current emergency I cannot accept any calls at this time..."

_"Chelsea? This is Dana Venkman...Peter's wife? We met at the premiere?"_

Chelsea did a double take. "Mrs. Venkman? Oh...um...of course...sorry...I've got a lot to deal with right now. Um...Dr. Venkman isn't available...I..."

_"He's out in the middle of it, isn't he?"_ Chelsea heard Dana exhale with exasperation on the other end. _"I was afraid of that, but not surprised...I just got woke up by my daughter, who's up watching movies a lot later than she should..."_

"Yeah...it has to be almost three AM on the East Coast..."

Dana made a bemused noise. _" 'Mom__, CNN says all hell's breaking lose in LA...what's to bet Dad's smack dab in the middle of it?' Sure enough..."_

"It's in their nature to go charging into danger, I guess..." Chelsea nodded.

_"Oh, the stories I could tell you..."_ Dana laughed. _"Did Peter leave any messages? Say anything before he left?"_

"Well, if I don't hear from them by midnight local time I'm supposed to call Professor Spengler and Doctor Stantz and give them a full report of the situation." She paused. "And that if his wife calls, to tell you he loves you, Oscar, and Jessica, and he's sorry he forgot to take the trash out before he left."

Chelsea could practically hear Dana shaking her head. _"That jerk..."_

"Does...does it ever get easier, Mrs. Venkman?"

_"I asked Janine the same thing-she's logged a lot more hours at worrying than me-and I guess the only answer is...you adjust. Being in love with a Ghostbuster is like being in love with a firefighter or a cop-there's always the danger that not everyone's going to make it back. Which makes every moment you do get together all the more precious."_

Chelsea closed her eyes and exhaled. "Thanks, Mrs. Venkman...somehow that helps..."

_"I hope so...listen, I better go...but when that no-good husband of mine shows up there, have him call me. Pronto."_

"Will do, Ma'am"

* * *

Fritz put a fleeting thought of concern about Chelsea, back at the warehouse, out of his mind..._I can't let that distract me now..._and looked up from his PKE meter as a new obstacle presented itself.

"Crap in a hat..." Jeremy muttered.

The corridor branched off in two separate directions; there was nothing of note within sight either way.

"Well, what's your call, Fritters?" Andy asked.

"There's no PK variances either way..." Fritz noted. "We split into two teams and go both ways-meet back here in an hour."

"Divide and conquer..." Jeff sniffed. "That's how they do it in all the monster movies..."

"There's still eight of us, making groups of four for each way-and we know four Ghostbusters can still do a lot of damage." Ron countered. "We just don't split any further."

"Agreed." Fritz said. "Ron, Jeremy, John, you're with me-we'll take the left corridor."

"You and your leftist leanings..." Ron teased.

Fritz wasn't in any mood to respond. "Andy, you take Chad, Jeff, and Robert down the right corridor."

"Sounds good to me." Andy nodded. "Hear that, Robbie? You get to work for me for a little bit..."

"Bloody saints preserve..." Robert muttered good-naturedly.

Fritz took a moment to show Jeff how he'd configured his PKE meter (so that Jeff's wouldn't overload either) and the two teams of Ghostbusters moved down their respective corridors.

* * *

A few minutes later, the Terror Dog arrived at the same junction. He sniffed the air, his eyes glowing for a second. Then he went left.

* * *

Fritz stopped.

"What?" Ron asked.

"I thought I had a reading behind us...but either it was a glitch or it stopped moving..."

Ron pulled down his EctoVisor and peered back. "I'm not seeing anything...either it was a glitch or it backed off..."

Jeremy looked back an extra time as they moved on.

* * *

_I must be cautious..._ the Terror Dog told itself. _They are not the same ones, but they bear their garb and brand...and they can detect my presence. Patience...wait until the moment is right..._

* * *

"See anything, Robert?" Jeff asked. The corridor was a lot darker now, and instead of turning on a flashlight Andy had told Robert and his Ecto Visor to take point. "Greater chance we'll see them before they see us that way" Andy had reasoned.

"Nothing..." Robert replied. "I assume you're not picking up anything, either?"

"You assume correct." Jeff replied.

Chad chuckled. "Dudes, you keep forgetting, you are with Mister Clutch. Ain't nothin' bad gonna happen when you're with me..."

At precisely that moment, there was a click from somewhere on the floor.

"I don't like the sound of that..." Andy got out right before the floor dropped out from under them.

The four Ghostbusters slid down some kind of inclined passageway, finally coming after a hundred scream filled yards into a slime-filled pit. The slime wasn't deep-no more than a foot-but was enough to break their fall. And drench them completely.

" 'Ain't nothin' bad gonna happen when you're with me'..." Andy mimicked Chad in a mocking voice.

"Oh hell..." Jeff exhaled, as he realized they weren't alone in the room.

Floating above it all, looking at them with utter disdain, was a vaguely man-like creature-though it was a man about seven feet tall clad in ornate copper armor. Greyish skin showed through the few parts of his body the armor did not cover. A large sword, apparently of the same copperish composition as his armor, was slung over his back. He finished the muffin he was eating and emitted a deep, booming laugh.

"I am called Herr Geistimann..." he finally spoke, in a voice tinged with a German accent. "In the name of Anubis, the Lord of Atrocity and Death, I bid you...GLWK!"

Whatever pompous speech Geistimann was plotting was shortened by the proton blast that flew right into his open mouth.

Andy lowered his thrower. "You expectin' us to worship you or any other Lord of Atrocity or whatever, you came to the wrong place, Hot Dog."

_Anubis_...Jeff was saying to himself. _A lot of pieces are starting to fit together... and Ye Gods does it look bad for our team..._

"You pathetic mortal fool! I am like unto a god, and you disrespect me thus?"

"Not the first..." Andy smirked.

The giant creature flew toward the Ghostbusters, reaching back and drawing his sword as he did so.

He was undoubtedly looking to skewer Andy, but his blow was met by the ignition of Andy Harness's Proton Sabre.

"Andy!" Chad cried.

"Wanna sword fight, Hot Dog? Suits me just fine..."

"I am one of the finest swordsmen in five dimensions...I have bested interdimensional champions..."

"And I owned the schoolyard at plastic light saber fights." Andy sneered back, for all the world looking like he was really bored. "If you fight was well as you yack, I may be in trouble-but that remains to be seen, huh?"

Robert was looking around. "There has to be a way out of here..."

"Dude, we are not leaving Andy behind." Chad said.

"I never said we were-but better take a second and find the escape route while Andy keeps that bugger occupied, don't you think?"

"Looks like that way..." Jeff pointed, toward a ladder at the far end of the room leading to an opening. Then he saw something he didn't like on his meter. "Chad, don't..."

But before Jeff could say anything further a slimy tentacle shot out of the slime, grabbed Chad's leg, and dragged him under.

"I forgot to mention..." Herr Geistimann smirked. "I am not the only adversary in this room...it is the residence of a Spawn of Apep..."

"Apep...Apophis the Dragon, great; first we got Darth Vader and Jeb Skywalker fighting over there, now we got the trash monster...my life is like a frickin' movie..." Jeff complained.

* * *

Joey rounded a corner warily, proton gun at the ready. "Another featureless corridor..." he whispered.

He had point, with Venkman and Peter right behind, Kyle taking up rearguard.

"I wish I'd had time to calibrate a meter the same way Fritz did..." Kyle said. "It'd be nice to have some idea if we were about to be attacked again or not..."

Peter sneezed loudly. "I bet something's nearby..."

"You sound so certain." Venkman replied.

"My Dad literally had a nose for ghosts..." Peter replied, referring to his father, the second tier Ghost Buster Jake Kong Jr. "He could more sniff them out. I guess that's why I sneeze sometimes when a powerful ghost is around..."

"Handy trick." Venkman smirked. "Thank goodness I don't have anything like that or I would've spent the entire Eighties with a runny nose." They'd heard the stories by now of Venkman's love/hate relationship with the New York Ghostbusters' resident pet ghost Slimer.

Kyle stiffened. "I hear something..."

They noticed the hallway ended in another opening, and the light play of flickering flames could be seen through it. There was another noise...chanting, in a language none of them could understand...

"Where's Professor Spengler when you need him?" Joey quipped. "Kyle, you and I take it SWAT style-just like Mister Zeddemore put in the manual..."

Kyle nodded, and the two West Coast Ghostbusters flanked the entranceway, Peter and Venkman moving into place beside Kyle and Joey, respectively. Joey nodded at Kyle, and the two rounded the entranceway, the other two Ghostbusters close behind.

What greeted them was a large chamber, with numerous torches illuminating it. There was a circle of chanting, bird-headed creatures around the center of the room.

And in the center...

"Mother puss bucket..." Venkman snarled.

* * *

John noticed it first. "Do you smell that?"

It was actually a pleasant fragrance...lilting and inviting.

"Like some kind of perfume..." Jeremy noted.

"It is similar in some ways to Spectral Seduction Number Five..." Fritz mused, causing the other three Ghostbusters to look at him.

He cleared his throat. "What? I got Chelsea some for Christmas..."

Ron couldn't help but chuckled audibly. "What does the meter say, Doctor Spectral Seduction?"

Fritz's brow narrowed. "There's definitely something in the chamber up ahead..."

They went into a larger room. There was a large tub of water with steam coming out of it...the steam carried the same pleasant scent they'd detected earlier.

"Hm..." came a female voice.

Four throwers were at the ready.

A woman rose out of the waters, her body shimmering with the water-and nothing else to cover her sensually proportioned physique.

All four gulped at once.

She opened her eyes, to regard them with a heavy-lidded stare as the pushed back a stray lock of wet black hair. "Don't you gentlemen know..." she playfully scolded, her voice carrying a vaguely German accent "That it's rude to interrupt a lady while she's bathing?"

_It's Isabel all over again..._ Fritz suddenly thought. _Use of sexuality to cause a distraction while she..._

He couldn't finish the thought before the winds started to blow in the room.

The woman made a gesture, and in a flash (literally) she was dry and a purple body suit was covering her body (though very tightly...) "Call me Frau Geistimann, little boys, and both Lord Anubis and I bid you greeting..."

The winds howled stronger. Ron was hurled across the room straight into one of the pools. Fritz hit one of the walls hard, albeit back first. And Jeremy was thrown back out the very door they came into.

Frau Geistimann laughed. "Fools...it's only a reflection of how pathetic the Master's lap dog is that he had any trouble with you..."

Her laughter was cut short as a proton beam slammed her from behind. John Lipsyte, who had managed to keep his footing by grabbing one of the support columns, fired the shot. "I normally don't like to neutronize a lady, but I'm not sure you qualify as a lady..."

"Verdammt subcreature..." Frau Geistimann snarled. "You need to learn some manners..." With that, a blast of energy flew from her left hand. John managed to dodge it, which was good-it blew a hole through the masonry that wouldn't have looked very good on him.

Fritz pulled himself off the floor painfully...then he realized there were some unpleasant pops and sizzles coming from his back. He grabbed the indicator clipped to the left side of his belt. "The impact damaged my pack...Damn..." he muttered as he saw the series of red lights blinking across the display.

Ron pulled himself out of the pool...thankfully, it wasn't very deep, so he was able to get out without ditching his proton pack (as more than one Ghostbuster, including Fritz, had discovered over the years, swimming with a sixty-pound proton pack on your back was almost impossible). "Thought it was wet enough outside..." Ron grumbled.

"Ron! Help John-I need a minute to fix my pack!" Fritz shouted at him.

"On it!" Ron nodded, jumping out of the pool, thrower ready. Unbidden, for a wistful moment, he wished his NOMAD teammates were there...but the last he knew, one had dropped off the face of the Earth to deal with his curse, one returned to England, and the last was enriching himself (or trying to...) in Vegas. He had bonded with the West Coast guys over the last year, to be sure, but they'd never be his family in the way the NOMAD boys were.

He angrily pushed the thought out of his head and with a loud war whoop, caught Frau Geistimann in a cross fire.

Fritz looked at the damaged connections in his pack. While certainly not an actual engineer like Robert or Otter, like any Ghostbuster he'd been trained in basic maintenance of the Mark Four-and having studied the blueprints and the underlying principles of the proton pack's operation, probably understood it better than most of his other comrades. _I can duct tape the conduit back together..._ he mused to himself, pulling a roll of the stuff out of his utility belt. _But it won't hold long...and I have to keep an eye on the temperature in the cyclotron..._

He looked around the room. _I don't know how long Ron and John can keep her occupied...where in the world did Jeremy get off to?_

* * *

Jeremy Hicks pulled himself off the floor woozily...he remembered the woman in the tub (_What is it with us and naked evil chicks?_) and the wind...which had thrown him into the hallway. "I gotta get back to the others..." he muttered out loud just before he heard a deep, ominous growl.

He had only seen pictures of one before, but never one in real life. And it was heading straight for him, ablly dodging the proton bursts he shot at it. It was almost right on top of him when he nailed it right in the chest, sending it flying. He turned and almost ran into a wall that hadn't been there a moment ago.

A Terror Dog

Oh s***, Jeremy thought as the Terror dog got back on its feet, getting an almost bemused look on its face.

All of a sudden, a voice rang out in his head, So, you are the chosen one for me? I would not waste my time on one such as you, but it is ordained to be.

It then dawned on Jeremy that his entire life had come to this: him becoming what he was protecting others from, the catalyst for the end of the world.

Bring it on, bitch.

The ensuing battle was hard, but short lived. Jeremy fired more proton vollies at the Terror Dog, but like before, it dodged them with ease. Then he had a thought, he would unhook the trap from his pack, aim the opening away from him, and hit the activation switch, hopefully blinding the dog long enough for Jeremy to zap'n'trap it.

The plan worked half way. He got the trap unhooked and aimed, but the Dog rammed him in the chest, causing Jeremy to drop the trap and snapping his chest strap. Jeremy again shot the Dog in the chest, this time keeping a steady stream on it.

I'll get you in a trap yet, he said out loud.

Then you are a bigger fool than I thought before. Yet smarter than my last host..., the Terror Dog thought out loud.

Just then, the computer controlled coolant system kicked in. The lcd on the blaster read 45 seconds till it could be used again.

The Terror Dog got up and smiled again, then charged at him.

Jeremy flailed for the neutrona saber he'd brought with him on a whim, pulling it off his belt, igniting it, and stabbing the monster in it's barrelled chest.

The beast howled, knocking the saber out of his grip; it clattered against one of the side walls.

Jeremy was out of time and options other than trying to pummel it into submission were out of the question. He knew he had lost, and the world was going to pay for his failure. Then everything went black...

* * *

Before Peter Venkman, Joey Williams, Kyle Stevens, and Peter Kong, in the center of the circle of chanting bird creatures was an altar emblazoned with hieroglyphics.

Standing beside the altar, leading the chant, was a man wearing an ornate costume, black with golden accessories cast in an Egyptian theme, a glowing red scarab on its chest.

"He looks like Gerald Butler..." Kyle muttered.

"Who the hell's Gerald Butler?" Joey retorted

"I'll tell you later..."

Also standing beside the altar was the Ravisher, no longer wearing his hoodie, instead bearing Egyptian-style garb of his own.

And tied to the altar, dressed in a skimpy costume like something out of _Cleopatra_, was actress Catharine Bartholomew.

"Cath!" Venkman shouted. "Hang on-we're here!"

"Peter?" Catharine shouted hoarsely, in surprise and hope. She'd given up screaming for help hours ago, but now...

The cult leader turned to the Ghostbusters. "Interlopers...you know not what you interrupt..." the man said in a deep voice. "Followers of Anubis, destroy them..."

"Oh hell..." Peter cursed as the bird creatures turned away from the ritual and moved toward them.

"The Sacrifice is at hand..." the black-garbed man said, turning back toward the Ravisher and Catharine. "The power of the Eye of Apophis will be consecrated with the blood of the Sacrifice, and within one turning of Ra's eye all will be one with Anubis..."

The Ravisher raised a talon. _"Sorry, toots...we had our fun, but now it's time to go. Say hi to Jonny-Boy for me..."_

Catharine Bartholomew screamed as the raised talon fell, headed for her exposed throat...

* * *

**To Be Continued**

* * *

3327-111304y  
038


	3. Chapter 3

**Ghostbusters West Coast: Curtain Call, Part Three**

From the files of Dr. Fritz V. Baugh, Official Historian  
With Contributions From the Rest of the GBWC Team  
GBI Case File No. GBWC-2004-22/100

* * *

**April 25, 2004  
Ghostbusters Omnibus Timeline Year 22**

* * *

Before Peter Venkman, Joey Williams, Kyle Stevens, and Peter Kong, in the center of the circle of chanting bird creatures, was an altar emblazoned with hieroglyphics.

Standing beside the altar, leading the chant, was a man wearing an ornate costume, black with golden accessories cast in an Egyptian theme, a glowing red scarab on its chest.

"He looks like Gerald Butler..." Kyle muttered.

"Who the hell's Gerald Butler?" Joey retorted

"I'll tell you later..."

Also standing beside the altar was the Ravisher, no longer wearing his hoodie, instead bearing Egyptian-style garb of his own.

And tied to the altar, dressed in a skimpy costume like something out of _Cleopatra_, was actress Catharine Bartholomew.

"Cath!" Venkman shouted. "Hang on-we're here!"

"Peter?" Catharine shouted hoarsely, in surprise and hope. She'd given up screaming for help hours ago, but now...

The cult leader turned to the Ghostbusters. "Interlopers...you know not what you interrupt..." the man said in a deep voice. "Followers of Anubis, destroy them..."

"Oh hell..." Peter cursed as the bird creatures turned away from the ritual and moved toward them.

"The Sacrifice is at hand..." the black-garbed man said, turning back toward the Ravisher and Catharine. "The power of the Eye of Apophis will be consecrated with the blood of the Sacrifice, and within one turning of Ra's eye all will be one with Anubis..."

The Ravisher raised a talon. _"Sorry, toots...we had our fun, but now it's time to go. Say hi to Jonny-Boy for me..."_

Catharine Bartholomew screamed as the raised talon fell, headed for her exposed throat...

A Mickey Mouse hat fluttered under the Ravisher's nose.

It was such an unexpected sight, such a distraction, that the monster flinched-exactly as Peter Kong had hoped.

Before the Ravisher could move, could use the powers he'd sold his soul for to go incorporeal, Kyle Stevens physically rammed him. Though smaller than the Ravisher, Kyle was not a small man-he was large enough that he threw the creature off balance, it's talon missing its fatal mark by inches.

"What in the name of...?" the cult leader started to sputter.

Joey Williams sent a beam of proton fire whizzing about two feet away from the man's head.

"Look! The Gryffindor Quiddich team!" Venkman shouted, pointing at the far corner of the room.

The cult of bird creatures turned to look at the direction he pointed, and he took the opportunity to make for the altar.

"Back away from the altar, motherf-er!" Joey snarled in his best menacing voice, and fired again. Peter Kong fired as well. Neither tried to hit the man, but they did force him back.

The Ravisher howled and jumped for them, but with a year's worth of Ghostbusting experience, Peter and Joey snagged him in their proton beams.

"This one's for Jon, you son of a bitch..." Peter snarled, thinking of his former boss, the man who's death at the Ravisher's hands had led to the formation of the Ghostbusters West Coast.

"The trap, Doctor Stevens." Joey said with unavoidable satisfaction.

Kyle looked at the writhing, cursing monster. That night, he'd saved Jon Dennison from the original attack-only to have the monster appear in the hospital to finish the job. It had cost Kyle his job; but more, the senselessness of the death-and all he had learned about Joseph Snurf and the Ravisher had only made it seem even more senseless-infuriated the normally gentle doctor from Alabama.

Venkman's beam joined theirs. He'd known Dennison longer than any of them-twelve years ago, just before Venkman had married his longtime love, Dennison had hired Catharine Bartholomew for a movie project. It was the first prospect Venkman had signed, and started him into the agency business that had made the years away from Ghostbusting quite lucrative for him. Had made the prosperous life he'd been able to give Dana, Oscar, and Jessica possible.

Kyle unlatched the ghost trap from his proton pack, and tossed it into position. With a quiet prayer, he stomped the pedal, releasing the pyramid of white light that sucked the jackal-headed entity that was once Joseph Snurf into its innards. With a loud exhalation, he released the pedal, and the light vanished as the trap snapped shut.

"Rest in peace, Jon." Peter said quietly, with a nod. Beside him, Joey nodded in agreement.

Venkman reached the altar, the intended sacrifice sobbing with joy. "Oh, Peter..."

Venkman brandished his thrower to dissuade the cult leader and the bird creatures, who by now had realized that they had fallen for a really old trick. "You punks wanna sacrifice her you gotta get through me first."

The three younger Ghostbusters nodded with agreement at this.

The cult leader glared at them, but said nothing.

* * *

"And I already know you ain't my Daddy, so don't even try that one!" Andy Harness mocked, as he blocked another lunge from the armored creature calling itself "Herr Geistimann"

"Where the hell's Chad?" Jeff Nash asked, poking into the muck with his thrower.

"I could start blasting..." Robert Griffiths mused out loud. "But I might hit Chad-I doubt his bloody luck's _that_ good."

"Insolent dog!" Herr Geistimann howled, making a series of ferocious attacks that Andy deflected with his neutrona saber.

"I had an insolent dog once..." Andy drawled in return, continuing to sound profoundly bored with the battle. "Damn thing kept takin' dumps on the floor. And you wouldn't believe the way it acted during thunder storms..."

Just like in _Star Wars_, Micheal Chad managed to pop out of the slime covering the floor of the room, a long tentacle wrapped around his body. "Blast the damn thing, dawgs!"

Jeff and Robert fired, aiming for the spot from which the tentacle came. There was an angry roar, and the tentacle released Chad. Jeff and Robert pulled the chunky Canadian to his feet; as they were already dripping with slime from their fall into the room, it didn't matter all that much that he was completely soaked with it.

"Where's your bloody luck now?" Robert smirked.

"You hit it so it released me, right? Close enough for me..." Chad managed to reply in between coughing up slime.

That's when the creature fully surfaced-it looked like a giant cobra drenched in the slime of the room. It roared angrily.

"Great...where's GI Joe when you need him?" Jeff muttered. _Spawn of Apep_ he reminded himself, the phrase Herr Geistimann had used to describe it. _It really starts to fit the Egyptian theme here...jackal-headed assassin, giant pyramid...I wonder if they had anything to do with reviving that mummy back on New Years..._

"Fire!" Robert shouted. The three Ghostbusters fired at the snake, but couldn't draw a bead on it-it moved so fast they had to dodge before they could snare it.

Andy, meanwhile, was beginning to feel the strain-the good news was that Herr Geistimann had been angered by Andy's insults, exactly as planned, and his swordsmanship was getting distinctly sloppier. The bad news was that he was pummelling harder and faster. _I just need an opening...or some help..._

Then Andy saw an opportunity.

With a rebel yell he dodged and feinted Geistimann's latest slashes, and slipped under his grasp before the large, armored being could process the unexpected move.

Andy swirled his neutrona saber defiantly. "You know somethin' Hot Dog? You suck. And you don't just suck-you suck a whole lot."

Robert caught Andy's eye-and realized what he was trying to do. Robert shot a blast that failed to hit the snake.

"Puny mortal fool! I will have your head for this!" Geistimann lunged again, sword slashing...

Andy jumped aside.

Robert's blast missed the snake again, but forced it to dodge left to avoid it...

...Taking it right into the course of Herr Geistimann's blade, lopping the creature's head straight off.

"Unglaublich!" Geistimann howled, dumbfounded, as his servant splashed into the slime in two pieces.

Three proton beams slammed into him full force.

"I got somethin' for ya, Darth Suckwad-an extended stay in the Ecto Containment Unit Hotel!" Andy quipped as he unhooked a ghost trap from his back. He didn't bother to throw it and stomp the pedal-he just shoved it in Herr Geistimann's face and tripped the side button.

Andy hoisted the trap. "Gosh I'm good."

"I hate to break this to you, Qui-Gon, but look at the indicator light-it blinks that fast it ain't gonna hold long..." Jeff pointed out.

"Then I suggest we make a getaway quick-before the bloody thing blows." Robert suggested.

Andy shrugged, then grabbed the severed head of the snake creature. He stuffed the trap in its mouth, striped doors down, and set the head deep into the slime. With one more smug grin, he quipped "Okay, now we can go..."

* * *

Fritz Baugh stared at the makeshift connection on his proton pack for a few more seconds. _I'm not sure how long it'll hold, if at all_

Ron Daniels and John Lipsyte dodged another blast sent at them by Frau Geistimann. Ron drew on years of Ghostbusting experience; John on the psychic senses that were his special gift.

"We'll hold the bitch, Fritz-find Jeremy!" Ron shouted.

Not being sure of his pack's operational status, Fritz didn't need too much convincing. He moved quickly in the direction of the doorway Jeremy had been sent through moments before.

* * *

It was all a blur...the evil naked chick...being tossed by the winds..then...something was there...but...he couldn't remember, he...what happened?

_Beware the snare of Anpu...seek those who follow the neon banner of the rat...the ludicrous one and the dragon of victory, the healer and the binder of spectres...but guard yourself, for the ten will be sundered..._

_La Llarona's prophesy?_ it came to him in a flash. _What does that have to do with this?_

"Jeremy? Can you hear me?" he heard a familiar voice calling to him.

He opened his eyes woozily, to see Fritz standing there. "Not so loud, Doc...I was just trying to catch up on my beauty sleep."

"If I was Andrew or Joseph, I might jokingly suggest that you'd have to be Rip Van Winkle. Are you all right?"

"To use one of the GBI Standard Phrases, 'I fell like the floor of a taxi cab'"

Fritz helped him up. "We don't have time to dawdle-Ron and John are fighting that enchantress, or whatever, and my proton pack's damaged. We need to get back there..."

Jeremy stopped, a sudden thought coming to him. "Fritz...that weird word you use to log into the GBCentral computer..."

" 'Veedramon'?" Fritz responded. "I told you-it's an anime reference, Digimon to be specific...but I really don't see the relevance to this..."

"What does it mean?"

"Jeremy..."

" 'Vee' is 'Victory'...'dra' for 'dragon'...'Dragon of Victory'..." Jeremy muttered to himself. "It's all making more sense now..."

With that, he turned and sprinted back to the battle. "Well, are you coming or what?" he called back to the confused Fritz.

* * *

Ron breathed a sigh of relief as Fritz and Jeremy ran into the room. Jeremy's proton beam joined theirs; it took Frau Geistimann by surprise, and the three beams were enough to hold her steady.

Fritz unhooked the trap from his pack and the writhing, cursing she-demon was sucked inside.

"That won't hold long-I suggest we get out of here before she breaks loose." Fritz noted.

"No need to tell me twice-book it!" Ron whooped, indicating the far door with his thrower.

"You okay?" John asked Jeremy. Something was buzzing in his head.

"I'm fine." Jeremy said curtly, and moved away from him.

_Something is not..._right_ with him...I gotta tell Joey and Kyle to give him the once-over when we get home..._

* * *

It didn't take Venkman long to release Catharine-"One more skill I learned from Dear Old Dad" he quipped as he ably picked the locks holding her to the altar.

She hugged him tightly, sobbing the whole time. "I can't believe this...oh my God..."

"Bet you'll never accuse me of making up the Ghostbuster stuff again, huh?" he said brightly, trying to use humor to keep her from getting even more hysterical.

It worked. "Shut up!" she cried, nevertheless just a tinge of laughter working its way into her sobs.

"You are a real peace of work, Pal..." Joey said, his thrower still trained on the cult leader. "You are what we in the psychology business like to call 'A Sicko'"

A smile crossed the man's face. It made Peter uneasy. He still felt like he wanted to sneeze.

"You have captured the Ravisher, correct?"

"Not a moviegoer, I take it." Joey chuckled. "He's safely contained in a ghost trap, and will be soon deposited into our state-of-the-art Ecto Containment Unit. Kind of like a ghost version of the jail the police will be throwing you into."

"Joey..." Peter said, his unease growing.

"Think about that, huh? I bet Big Louie in block 5 will just love that handsome face of yours. From Cult Leader to Big Louie's Bitch in the space of a single afternoon-how does that grab you, Sunshine?"

"You don't need to pile it on, Joey..." Kyle muttered through gritted teeth. The crisis was far from over-they still needed to get out of this place.

"You have been more helpful than you realize, Mortal..." the man smiled, and made a gesture with his left hand.

It had become unofficial GBWC protocol to fit unused traps on their housing at the left side of the proton packs, and to attach used ones to the belt-to keep the two separate. The trap with the Ravisher in it was hanging from Kyle Stevens' belt-until it jumped off of it and flew into the cult leader's hand.

"That's our property!" Joey shouted indignantly.

"And the being inside is mine." the cult leader retorted. Abruptly, he flew into the air, trap clutched in his grip. "In the name of your master, destroy them, my minions!" he howled, and flew through the doorway opposite the Ghostbusters.

"F-!" Joey snarled, and fired a blast at the retreating cult leader. The blast was deflected a foot away from the man's body, as though it were a stream of water hitting a glass window.

"Um...Joey..." Peter gulped. "I think the natives are getting restless."

Sure enough, the bird creatures were advancing on the four Ghostbusters and the would-be sacrifice, cawing angrily. Venkman took a deep breath, and fired on them.

The blast knocked it back; "They're entities! Standard procedure!" he whooped, trademark cheshire grin appearing.

"Yeah...but there's like two dozen of them!" Kyle pointed out.

"Shut up and shoot." Joey deadpanned.

"Form a ring-Miss Bartholomew in the middle!" Kyle barked.

They did. The four Ghostbusters fired blast after blast, managing to catch a few of the bird-entities, but it was beginning to look hopeless. There were just too many of them.

"WHOO-HOO! A DUCK SHOOT!" a loud, Tennessee-drenched voice shouted, and suddenly four more proton beams tore into the bird creatures.

Joey's group turned to see Andy Harness, Jeff Nash, Robert Griffiths, and Mike Chad firing the beams.

The balance of power turned quickly. Within minutes, the squalking entities were safely contained.

"You know, it doesn't help GBI's image to have our employees caked with slime." Venkman quipped. "But then again, who am I to say anything about that?"

"With all due respect, Doctor V-Bite Me." Andy retorted. "You guys seen Fritters?"

"Last time we saw him he was with you..." Kyle answered.

"We got split up-him, Ron Jeremy and John went one way, we went the other..."

"We'll have to look later." Joey said with uncharacteristic firmness. "The cult leader took the Ravisher-and I got a bad feeling the whole show ain't over yet."

* * *

He floated into the Los Angeles night sky, the rain still pouring down-but as before, it was deflected before it reached him.

He hefted the ghost trap, a satisfied grin crossing his lips.

He crushed the trap in his grip, and as it shattered a cloud of familiar smoke was released. The Ravisher appeared, and genuflected before the man.

_"Thank you once again, My Lord"_ the jackal-headed creature said.

"Your role is not yet played, my servant..."

* * *

The eight Ghostbusters followed Jeff's lead-his PKE meter was now definitely showing the flow of PKE toward the top of the pyramid.

Venkman made a gesture that meant "shush"-he was more than a little bit concerned about having to take Catharine along with them, but they agreed that splitting up again would not be a good idea-and that the cult leader had to be stopped. **Now**

The older man crept up to the corner of the next turn. A few seconds later, he jumped to face whatever was there, neutrona wand primed...

...And Ron Daniels, in a similar position, stared back at him.

"Very good, Doctor Daniels." Venkman played it off. "You pass the test on Sneaking Up On People Around the Next Corner."

Fritz, Jeremy, and John were there too, the bespectacled physicist studying his PKE meter. "I detected a sudden reconcentration of energy at the apex of the pyramid-we were going to investigate it."

"Us too. Wanna come along?' Joey grinned, slapping Fritz on the shoulder. Venkman shook his head, but not unfondly-Joey and Fritz really reminded him of a certain couple of long-time Ghostbusters sometimes...

"SpecterHarness..." Jeremy muttered. "That's Andy's log-in name...'the Binder of Spectres'..."

"Huh?" John reacted, not sure if he'd heard what he thought he'd heard.

"And Kyle's a doctor..." Jeremy continued quietly, talking to himself. "The healer..."

John got a chill down the back of his neck. _I have _got_ to let Joey and Fritz know about this_

* * *

A few minutes later, the mob of Ghostbusters came to an opening. Through it was an open chamber, the rain pouring angrily from outside, the wind howling eerily.

"There they are!" Chad shouted. The Ravisher and the cult leader were there, the rain splashing away from the man, deflected before it even reached him.

"We have some unfinished business with you, Snurfy!" Joey shouted. "For one thing, you've been giving all us guys named Joseph a really bad rep..."

_"Oh, boo hoo..."_ the Ravisher snorted derisively.

Ron looked at the cult leader. "He looks like Gerald Butler..."

Kyle nodded. "That's what I said."

"Who the bloody f- is Gerald Butler?" Robert muttered. "I've thrown in with a bunch of bloody lunatics..."

The Ravisher continued to rant. _"Jon Dennison was a piece of shit. He screwed me on the movie project, cut me out of the idea that I brought to him! It was _MY_ idea to base the movie off the 'Skeleton Dance' short, but not to hear him tell it! That louse ruined me, and he got what he deserved!"_

The cult leader said nothing.

"That isn't true!" Catharine shouted. "Jon wanted you to get help, and you didn't-when you showed up to work stinking drunk that was the last straw..."

_"You always took his side, didn't you, bitch?"_ the Ravisher spat. _"I don't know why I ever even tried-I didn't have Jonny-boy's bank account, and that's all chicks like you care about isn't it?"_

"That's a little harsh..." Venkman said. "You got ex envy issues, don't you? I sympathize-you should've seen the Stiff who was my wife's first husband..."

_"Shut up, Venkman"_ the Ravisher replied. _"You go through an awful lot of trouble for this c- you ain't even married too-does that wife of yours know about this?"_

The cult leader turned to face the assembled group. "The time is now. The stroke of midnight approaches, and the moment for the sacrifice is nigh..."

"You ain't sacrificing nobody..." Joey snarled, and aimed his thrower.

" 'Ludicris'..." Jeremy muttered. "That's his log-in name...'the ludicrous one'..."

Venkman, Ron, Andy, and Jeff closed ranks around Catharine, particle throwers (and proton rail gun) ready to fire.

The man smiled. "You assume that your female friend was to be the sacrifice...she is not."

Even the Ravisher looked dumbstruck. _"What? Then what was the f-ing point of all this?"_

"The true sacrifice had to be readied." the man replied, eyes narrowing. "For the full power of the Eye of Apophis to be unleashed, at the moment of Ra's nadir, a corrupted heart must be offered as sacrifice. A heart with the blood of it's best friend and the one it loved staining it..."

Before anyone could react, his hand shot to the Ravisher's neck. "Yours, Joseph Snurf. You sold your soul for revenge. You murdered your best friend. The sacrifice of your woman was thwarted, but only because your death blow was deflected-for my purpose, it is just as good as if you had killed her."

The Ravisher screamed.

"Joe!" Catharine shouted. Even through all that she'd endured, the pain in the voice of the creature that was once her lover was real, stabbing into the part of her heart that was still his, and probably always would be.

"FIRE!" Fritz shouted, compelled by something that could only be called primal instinct.

The beams sizzled through the downpour, but just as the beams that the smaller team had fired earlier, they never reached their target, splashing against his forcefield-and worse, being sent right back at them, forcing them to scatter or be hit by the rebounded shots.

The Ravisher's body crackled with a blood red light. With one last howl of utter agony and terror, he seemed to be consumed by the same mists that he'd used to travel back and forth.

There was a dull thud, as out of the mists fell a human man, dressed in the same Egyptian finery the Ravisher had been wearing.

With a bloody, gaping hole where his heart used to be.

Kyle realized, with a chill, that the wound looked exactly like the one that had killed Jon Dennison a year earlier.

"JOOOOE!" Caharine screamed.

The cult leader was now laughing, a deep, gleeful laugh, as energy played around the red scarab on his broach.

"Rejoice, you pitiful fools..." his voice rang out. "You bear witness to the arrival of your new god..."

The man started to grow.

"With the sacrifice of the corrupt heart, only one turning of Ra's eye remains-before my power spreads to this entire accursed world. The world that turned its back on us millenia ago..."

As he grew, he began to change. The head of Gerald Butler disappeared. In its place, a jackal-like head not too dissimilar to the Ravisher's, but of a deeper, darker pelt, and bearing a pharaoh-like headdress.

"Bear witness, for Anpu, son of Assar, chosen of Sutekh, Lord of Atrocity and God of Death, is ruler of your world now!"

"Oh shit..." Chad inhaled.

A bead of cold sweat dropped down Jeremy Hicks' brow. " 'The ten will be sundered...' "

"What the f- do we do now?" Peter shouted.

"Anpu...the proper name of the Egyptian God more commonly referred to by the Hellenization of his name, Anubis..." Fritz said, sounding a bit dazed.

_"Sorry, Venkman...I'm terrorized beyond the capacity for rational thought..."_ The memory came unbidden into Venkman's mind.

"How bad is this?" Joey asked.

"It doesn't get much worse." Jeff answered. "Anubis was the God of Death, one of the big names of the Egyptian pantheon."

"Ray will love this." Venkman deadpanned. "That was the one major pantheon we never confirmed the existance of."

"Assuming we live to tell the story..." Ron retorted.

"One turning of Ra's eye...before his power spreads throughout the world?" John asked.

"Ra was the god of the sun..." Jeff answered. "Had the head of a hawk. One turning...means one day. By this time tomorrow..."

"I don't think we wanna go there." Joey broke in. "Okay, guys...Dr. Venkman, do you want to do the honors?"

"Your team, Dr. Williams."

"Heat'em up!" Joey barked.

"Full stream!" Fritz added. _If that isn't enough I don't think we need to worry about the safety cut-off..._

Joey smirked. "Let's show this dog-faced f-tard how we do things out West!"

The twelve Ghostbusters fired again. The beams hammered into the giant, jackal-headed god, but even though they seemed to reach him this time-instead of bouncing off a force field-they didn't seem to be doing much damage either.

Anubis turned and glared at them.

"I grow weary of your interference..." he said simply, and they were surrounded with an inferno of black fire.

It was cold as night, and just as dark. It ensnared them, and one by one, they felt their strength fail...and they crashed to the ground...

* * *

John: _Beware the snare of Anpu...seek those who follow the neon banner of the rat...the ludicrous one and the dragon of victory, the healer and the binder of spectres...but guard yourself, for the ten will be sundered... _

Jeremy _That's the Prophesy! The one La Llarona told me...where did you hear it? _

John: _I saw it...in a vision, just before I joined the team...you were in it..._

Peter: _What's happening? _

John: _Peter? _

Kyle: _I couldn't save Dennison...now I can't save anybody. Stevens want to go smash... _

Fritz _...Chelsea... _

Jeff: _My life is like a frickin' cartoon... _

Jeremy _It's everybody... _

Chad _Dawg, looks like our luck has run out... _

Ron: _Chris...Dan...Tom...I'm sorry... _

Robert: _Bloody hell...it's like everyone's in my damn head... _

John: _They are, Robert... _

Joey: _That empty sound over there must be Harness... _

Andy: _Hey, Joey. Bite. Me._

John: _It's like...my power's gone into overdrive... _

Fritz _Rational. We are in the geographical center of a psychokinetic surge probably well over two hundred cupcakes at this point. _

Venkman: _I feel so funky... _

Jeremy_: Beware the snare of Anpu...seek those who follow the neon banner of the rat...the ludicrous one and the dragon of victory, the healer and the binder of spectres...but guard yourself, for the ten will be sundered... _

John: _It's happening, isn't it? _

Kyle: _I don't believe in prophesy... _

Venkman: _Hate to break this to you, but they happen-I've found myself at the center of one or two. It sucks, but you deal with it... _

Jeremy _Beware the snare of Anpu... _

Jeff: _Anpu...Anubis...the nasty dude we're fighting right now... _

John: _seek those who follow the neon banner of the rat... _

Joey: _Neon...like our Ghostbuster logo... _

Peter: _But banner of the rat? _

Venkman: _Rat. Fink. Vermin. Venkman. _

Jeff: _Since Dr. Venkman is the founder closest to us... _

Venkman: _Like I came up with it or something. But I guess 'neon banner of the angry redheaded minyan' doesn't sound as catchy... _

Joey: _the ludicrous one _

Fritz _the dragon of victory _

Kyle: _the healer _

Andy: _the binder of spectres_

Peter: _That's you four. Our leaders. _

Ron: _I think I'm hurt _

Chad _Maybe they didn't know you were joinin' when they wrote the prophesy... _

John: _but guard yourself, for the ten will be sundered _

Robert: _Sundered? Like... _

Chad _Smoked like bitches, maybe _

Jeremy _She told the prophesy to me...maybe that means... _

John: _No. _

_We only have one shot at this. _

Jeff: _What are you saying? _

John: _I need all your strength to do this... _

Joey: _What are you planning? _

John: _I can feel it...his power's growing, but not complete yet...the amulet is the key... _

Joey: _John, you can't do this! _

John: _Problem is, Boss. I'm the only one who can _

* * *

His limbs were practically Jello...his head screaming, pain racking every cell of his body. But his power was growing-the gift and curse of his birth, the hidden power of the mind all could possess but only a few-such as him-do.

John: _My power is giving me strength...enough to resist the spell, but only for a minute...I need all of your help... _

_Help me... _

Jeremy:_ You got it _

Fritz:_ Indeed _

Andy_: Kick his dog ass _

Joey_: Because the whole world's balls are in the vice here... _

John Lipsyte could feel it. The courage and will of his teammates flowing into him...even...illusion or no...Otter and Chelsea so far away. He was the only one who could act...

But he was not alone.

Anubis looked to the roiling sky, the pouring clouds parting to form a dark, angry hole, unnaturally purple lightning playing around it.

Venkman: _Dimensional gateway...to allow his full power to spill out...once it does... _

John unstrapped the proton pack he was wearing. He dropped it to the ground, and crawled over to the still form of Dr. Fritz Baugh. He unstrapped the prone physicist's pack, and with a grunt settled it upon his own shoulders.

Fritz _What are you doing? _

The only answer John gave was to ramp up the power setting. An ugly whine started to come from the damaged pack

Venkman: _I remember that noise...and I really really don't like it... _

The Eye of Apophis floated in front of Anubis.

John: _Only one shot... _

KROOM!

A massive blast of proton energy erupted from the neutrona wand in John's grip-the wand was destroyed and the black gloves seared into his flesh by the chaos wrought by the overcharged beam.

But the stream hit its mark.

The Eye of Apophis took the blast full, and though undamaged by it, was knocked out of Anubis's control, and thrown to the ground.

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF SUTEKH?"

John leaped and snagged the glowing bauble, red-hot fury being poured into his already damaged limbs.

"You will give that back to me, Mortal Dustmite..." Anubis snarled

"My ass." John snarled back.

"I would suggest you honor Lord Atrocity's order" a deep voice growled.

John turned to see Herr and Frau Geistimann, the former angrily brandishing his sword.

John smirked.

The power of the Eye blazed forth, crimson fury ripping into the two henchmen and their employer.

Anubis seethed as he stepped back. "I see you have unusual power of the mind for a mortal...otherwise you could not tap the power of the Eye at all...but all of your efforts are in vain. It will destroy you in moments. Only a god can use it's power without paying the price..."

"A few moments is all I need"

The Geistimanns howled as eleven streams of proton fire was split between them.

Anubis spun to see the Ghostbusters West Coast, the power of the spell sapping them broken.

The jackal-headed creature shouted angrily, and leaped at John.

The power of the Eye of Apophis reached out again, tearing and tattering the screaming god.

"John!" Joey cried. "Drop the rock and get out of there!"

"Sorry, Dr. Williams-I got one more thing to do..."

The power of the Eye...the power of the energies boiling in this place...the faith and friendship of his comrades...all gathered in him.

This was his moment of destiny. The reason he'd been given his power. The reason he'd become a Ghostbuster.

He hoisted the glowing stone, and the hole in the clouds began to grow smaller.

"No!" Anubis shouted. "I've planned for this day for over two thousand years! I will not be denied!"

Tendrils of purple lightning snaked from the portal, wrapping Anubis and the Geistimanns in their embrace.

Anubis howled and fought.

John unstrapped the damaged proton pack he was wearing, and the power of Eye sent it hurling into the writing god, knocking him into the portal.

Shouting obscenities in German, the Geistimanns were drawn in after him.

The portal exploded as the damaged proton pack finally breathed its last, the angry fire of atomic inferno claiming it.

And the world around the twelve Ghostbusters dissolved into the purest of white light...

* * *

Joey awoke with a start...he didn't know how long had passed-probably only a moment...but around him were his comrades, similarly battered and bringing themselves to consciousness. Catharine Bartholomew also lay nearby, still dressed in the Egyptian garb the cult had placed her in.

The rain was letting up.

With a start, Joey realized he was on the ground at Pershing Park; the ECTO-1N and ECTO-1S, lights still blazing, and a sizable contingent of LAPD and National Guard troops-called to cordon off the pyramid-were nearby. The pyramid itself was gone...as though it had never existed.

"John!" he called.

"Over here..." he heard Jeremy's voice, sounding about to break.

The first thing that hit them was the smell...Kyle knew too well the smell of burnt human flesh.

John Lipsyte looked like he'd been cooked alive. The tan sleeves of his flight suit, the arm pads, and most of the black work gloves had been burned away...charred bone showed through charred flesh.

"Hang on there, John..." Kyle said quickly, his years of medical training kicking in.

"WOULD ONE OF YOU F-ERS CALL AN AMBULANCE!" Andy Harness shouted at the police.

Incredibly, John opened his eyes, and smiled. "We got him, guys..." he croaked weakly.

"John? JOHN!" Jeremy called out to him.

Kyle was performing CPR...several med techs had appeared...

There was a sparkle of light...and a second John Lipsyte appeared. His features whole and healthy, dressed in his tan flight suit..

And translucent.

"Oh God..." Ron inhaled. And realized that tears were forming in his eyes.

_" 'The ten will be sundered', I guess it was just supposed to be this way..."_ he spoke. _"It was an honor to serve with you guys...you were the best friends I could have ever asked for..."_ he looked up. There was so much he wished he could tell them...the darkness he saw growing in Jeremy Hicks...the choices that lay ahead for Ron Daniels and Joey Williams...the ordeals Fritz Baugh would soon be subjected to...

But he was being called to the Other Side.

_"Ghostbusters Forever..."_ the ghost of John Lipsyte said, giving his teammates one last high five, then fading into the ether...

* * *

_Hang on…not quite over yet. Stand by for the Epilog to **Curtain Call**: **Intermission**. _

_And then you won't believe what follows that…_

_

* * *

_

3360-22405r  
048


	4. Intermission

**INTERMISSION**

From the files of Dr. Fritz V. Baugh, Official Historian  
Some sections written by Jeremy Hicks, GBWC North Team  
With Plot Contributions From the Rest of the GBWC Team  
Addendum to GBI Case File No. GBWC-2004-22/100

* * *

**April 30, 2004**  
**Ghostbusters Omnibus Timeline Year Twenty Two**

* * *

_"Ashes to ashes; dust to dust..."_ the preacher spoke. An elderly man of African-American descent, with only a fringe of white hair remaining on his head, his calm voice nevertheless shook with genuine sorrow. "Lord, as we commit the flesh of Johnathan Parker Lipsyte to the Earth, take his soul into your Heaven above. Amen."

_"Amen"_ the crowd, mostly African-American as well, repeated softly.

The preacher's sorrow was understandable. Twenty-four years ago he had baptized John Lipsyte. Seeing him every Sunday as he grew from a wide-eyed child to a man bounding with energy and promise.

Today, he eulogized him.

There was one group of Caucasian faces in the group of mourners-John's comrades, the eleven surviving members of the Ghostbusters West Coast, all dressed in dark suits. Dr. Joey Williams (the GBWC's CEO). Dr. Kyle Stevens. Dr. Andy Harness. Dr. Jeff Nash. Dr. Ron Daniels. Mike Chad. Jeremy "J" Hicks. Dr. Robert Griffiths. Peter Kong. Next to Dr. Fritz Baugh stood the GBWC's Client Administrator, Chelsea Aberdeen, also dressed for mourning. Even Nathaniel Masterson, the eccentric and diminuative engineer nick-named "Otter", was wearing a presentable suit, and for probably the first time since the GBWC had hired him a year ago, the blue dye was washed from his sideburns, allowing their natural white color to show.

Dr. Peter Venkman, chairman of Ghostbusters International and co-founder of the legendary New York City franchise, stood with his wife Dana. Joey couldn't help but notice that he'd never seen Venkman's age-only months away from his fiftieth birthday-seem to show the way it was today. Venkman looked tired, his normally energetic green eyes hollow and cold. It would've given Joey small comfort, perhaps, but Dana Venkman had noticed that too...

As the coffin was lowered into the ground, the sobbing woman next to the preacher lost it completely, wailing in despair, collapsing into the his arms. "I know, child, I know..." Evangelean Lipsyte had already buried her husband, and now, watching her son being returned to the Earth was breaking her...

Not far away, dressed in a shawl to keep her from being immediately recognized, was Catharine Bartholomew. She was dealing with a mix of emotions...guilt, that it was in her rescue that John Lipsyte had had to sacrifice himself. Gratitude, that his heroism had freed her and saved the city-possibly even the world. The feeling of intruding onto the sorrow of the friends and family of the deceased, a man she didn't really know. And the confusion and sorrow that wracked her over the fate of her former lover, Joseph Snurf, who had murdered another of her ex-lovers and nearly murdered her as the monstrous Ravisher. But in the end, he'd been betrayed himself, and the remembrance of his last pain-filled scream cut to her soul still.

There couldn't even be a funeral for Joseph Snurf-his body had disappeared when the pyramid vanished from Pershing Park.

Not far away from Venkman was his longtime brother-in-arms, Winston Zeddemore. Winston didn't know John Lipsyte, but Venkman had asked him to be present at the funeral-that Venkman somehow thought it _appropriate_ for Ghostbusters International's most renowned African American member be present.

Next to Winston was an intense looking man about Jeff's age-Vincent Abraham Belmont was the leader of one of the other New York franchises-the Arcane Division-and was currently acting as leader of the Ghostbusters UK's new subdivision, the Graveyard Shift. He was a sorcerer of significant power and prestige, and had been involved with the Ghostbusters long before he'd put on the uniform.

With Vincent was his fiancee, Jill Valentine, a former member of the special operations unit called STARS. Both had made the trip from England on short notice, but Belmont had insisted on being present at the funeral of a fallen Ghostbuster.

One watched with dispassionate eyes.

Jeremy wanted to feel something...kept trying to remind himself that John was his friend, his comrade-for a year they'd watched each other's back in haunted houses, against ghosts, mummies, a succubus, and more he couldn't even find himself able to remember.

Truth to tell, he found himself bored. Bored at watching the little mayfly creatures mourning the passing of one of their eyeblink life spans...

There was just enough humanity left to be disturbed by that thought, but it was fading quickly...

_The Master's time grows near, Host. Your meatbag comrades will not be able to stop what is about to occur. Soon, it will be time to begin..._

He almost cried out to Joey...wanted to grab Fritz by the lapel and scream "HELP ME!"...

...But he couldn't

* * *

**Ghostbusters Central West**

* * *

It had been a quiet ride back to the former warehouse that the Ghostbusters West Coast called home.

"We saved the city...probably even the world..." Peter Kong finally broke the silence. "We can't forget that..."

"Hard to take a lot of solace in that right now." Chad responded.

Peter Venkman slumped into one of the chairs in the reception area. Winston and Dana looked at each other-it was unnerving them to see him look so...defeated.

"Peter, we better get you back to New York pronto. Ray and Egon are worried sick about you and if they saw you right now, well, their fears would be validated."

"Why him?" Venkman finally said.

"What do you mean, Peter?" Dana asked gently, sitting in the chair next to his.

"Why is it an asshole like me can live to see his fiftieth birthday? I've faced more primal horrors and demonic masterminds than I can even remember...or want to. I've gone toe to toe with giant marshmallow men, dudes with pumpkins for heads, tentacle beasts that wanted to crispy fry New York City, killer dinosaurs, and guys that were good stand-ins for the Devil himself. I've been possessed, shrunk, turned into a cartoon character, and literally blown across space and time..."

"Why is it I'm still here...and a kid like John Lipsyte isn't?"

Winston put his hand on Venkman's shoulder reassuringly. "I wish there were simple answers to that, Pete. But you know there isn't. Maybe we've been luckier than we should've been, but you can't let that eat you up inside. We're in a job that can be incredibly dangerous-but all of us know that. John Lipsyte knew it, the same way a policeman or a fireman knows every day could be their last."

Winston sat down. "We don't go asking the fire chief or MacShayne why they didn't die and all those police and firefighters did."

Chelsea felt a lump in her throat. Venkman and Winston were New York natives-she knew Winston didn't have to tell his old friend which day he was referencing.

"Instead, we honor the service and sacrifice of those heroes. Thank them for all the people they did save-and that's what John Lipsyte did, Peter."

"You're right..." Venkman finally nodded. "I know...It just doesn't seem fair somehow."

"Let's get you home, Man." Winston said as he stood up.

"Winston's right, Dear." Dana agreed. "I think Oscar and Jess will do you a world of good right now."

Dana and Winston led Venkman out of the former warehouse; Vincent lingered for just a moment longer. "I hate making this so abrupt, but like Mister Zeddemore said-I think we need to get Dr. Venkman home before he crashes completely."

Joey nodded. "Hey, completely understood, Vince...just make sure to let us know how he's doing."

"I will, Dr. Williams." Vincent replied, shaking Joey's hand "You all take care."

There was a round of quick goodbyes, and then the Ghostbuster wizard joined his friends outside.

Fritz sat down and exhaled loudly, removing his glasses.

"You all right?" Chelsea asked, starting to rub his back.

"About as good as could be expected. I spent some time in Newark, as you might remember-I was already back in Indy by September 11, of course, but I have a lot of friends in that area."

"So some of what Mister Zeddemore said got to you a little, huh?"

"A little..."

Jeremy suddenly snorted, and turned and left the room briskly.

"J?" Joey asked suddenly concerned.

"He's been actin' weirder than usual lately...or is it just me?" Andy added.

Jeff was taking off his tie with great relish-he hated wearing it. "Give J a break...he and John were pretty close, and then there was that 'Prophesy' thing there at the end. And believe me, I'm more than curious about what it all means, but there'll be plenty of time to ask about it later."

"I agree..." Fritz nodded. "Let him be for now."

* * *

**May 7, 2004**

* * *

"This is just f-ing great..." Joey muttered out loud.

"Another bill?" Chelsea rolled her eyes. "You want me to take it to Fritz's desk now, or are you going to sneak it in when he's not looking again?"

"It's not a bill-it's from Ron"

"Where in the world has he been? He headed back to Stanford after the funeral and we haven't heard from him since. When I tried to call, I was told his phone was disconnected..."

"Thank you, Miss Exposition."

She replied to that by sticking out her tongue at him and pulling down one eyelid. "So what does it say?"

_Guys, _

_I know this is sudden, but there's the story: when I got back to Stanford, I had it out with the boss (Dean Yeager Jr. I call him behind his back) and basically told him to take his job and shove it. _

_And practically before I could blink, I ended up at GBI HQ at the right time-Tom, Dan, and Hell, even Chris (can you believe it?) were all there. _

_I have valued my time with the Ghostbusters West Coast, but this will have to serve as my official notice of franchise transfer: Ghostbusters NOMAD is being fully reactivated and I'm returning to that group. This is certainly nothing against any of you-you've all grown into a team of accomplished professionals over the last year, and I'm proud to have been a part of that. But I formed a deep bond to these three guys, and...well, frankly, I think they need me a lot more than you do right now. _

_I'll send full contact info as soon as we're completely up and running, but for now just email me through GBI headquarters. _

_I wish you all the best of luck, and thank you for your friendship _

_Dr. Ron Daniels _

_GBNOMAD_

"That's depressing..." Chad winced.

"Oh, I don't know." Kyle disagreed. "Ron really missed the NOMAD guys, so maybe this will be a good thing for him."

"Look, Ron's gone-I don't like it either, but we'll deal with it. There's still like nine of us, you know, which is still twice the standard GBI team roster..." Joey tried to say as brightly as he could

"Considering Jeremy seems to spend most of his time hiding in his room, we're practically down to eight." Robert rolled his eyes.

"Joey and I've asked the central office to send us a list of prospective Mobile Agents from the GBIndependant rosters-somebody who could be, much like Ron was, a part-timer." Fritz said.

"GBIndependent?" Peter said quizzically.

"You never study..." Andy chuckled.

"The independent contractors-fully trained and accredited agents of GBI who either weren't able to raise the capital or recruit enough personell to start a full franchise." Fritz explained. "We're cautiously optimistic..."

* * *

**The White Diamond; Newark, New Jersey**  
**May 13, 2004**

* * *

The large man crashed through a table.

The thugs that were with him stepped back.

The goateed young man in the leather jacket brushed off a piece of lint. "Why don't you mop up what's left of Ox off the floor and get your asses out of here. I don't really feel like playing with you today-maybe go bug Felix down at the Hello Kitty?"

The toughs grabbed the semi-conscious Ox and beat a hasty retreat.

"I wish Ox and his hoods would quit this crap..." the beefy bartender, a guy named Harvey, sighed wistfully. "Thanks for stoppin' him before I had to call the police, Leon..."

Leon Hogan took a swig of his beer. "No problem, Harv."

Two more men walked into the bar; the older of the men was in his mid forties, with short auburn hair and a matching beard. Behind him was a wiry Hispanic with a goatee.

"Don't look like regulars to me..." Harvey muttered under his breath.

Leon did a double take-he recognized the older man.

"So is this the place?' the Latino said, with an accent that conveyed some nervousness with the situation disguised under a thick layer of boredom.

"Yeah...the White Diamond" the older man replied in an excited tenor. "Hey! There he is-Leon!"

Leon nodded. "What brings you to these parts, Doctor Stantz? Fritz finally convince you to try the food?"

"These guys know Doc?" Harvey asked.

"You might say that-Doctor Stantz is Fritz's boss now."

"I told you last time-call me Ray. And this is one of the other guys in the New York office-Eduardo Rivera. Eddie, Leon Hogan..."

"Nice goatee..." Eduardo quipped.

"Yeah. I can see why they had me wear one of your jump suits..."

"You can keep it. I don't do uniform."

Comprehension dawned on Harvey. "Hold on, waitasec...you're Doc's boss? Stantz-Ray Stantz, the Ghostbuster?"

"He catches on quick..." Eduardo deadpanned.

"Pleased to make you acquaintance, Mister..."

"Just call me Harvey, Doctor Stantz." Harvey replied excitedly, pumping Ray's hand. "Sorry I didn't recognize ya...I guess I figured you looked more like Dan Aykroyd..."

"I get that a lot..." Ray rolled his eyes, but no offense in his voice.

"And as you guessed, I'm Eduardo Rivera, the Legendary Rico Suave of Ghostbusting..."

Harvey looked confused. "Um, if you say so...the name doesn't ring a bell..."

Six months or so before, Fritz and Joey were visiting the GBI offices in New York City. They went on a bust with Doctor Stantz that ended up being the ghost of Leon's late brother, Nick. With Leon's help, they'd solved the mystery of Nick's death and allowed him to pass to the other side.

"So...Ray...what brings you to these parts? Pardon the phrase, but Jerzee ain't your usual haunt..."

"I know...we've got more than one New Jersey franchise to handle things...but while this isn't a bust, it is GBI business." Ray answered. "I'm here on behalf of Joey and Fritz to talk to you..."

* * *

**May 15, 2004**

* * *

The door to Ghostbusters Central West opened. Chelsea Aberdeen looked up to see two men walk into the garage-young men, one with a leather jacket and a goatee, the other with slightly long dark hair that looked like it would obscure his vision. _A bit like Jeff, actually..._ Chelsea noted to herself.

"May I help you?"

"You must be Chelsea? We've communicated by email-I'm Will Ketcham, with GBIndependent..."

"Dr. Ketcham. Of course..." she replied cordially, shaking his hand "Pleased to meet you!"

"You're...Chelsea?" the goateed man asked, with an interest that seemed slightly suspicious.

"Chelsea Aberdeen, Ghostbusters West Coast Client Administrator." she replied, shaking his hand. "And you are?"

"Totally in awe of Doc's taste in women, Miss Aberdeen."

But before Chelsea could recover from her shock and ask any further questions, Fritz's voice broke in "Leon!"

The goateed man looked up. "Hey, Doc...I see you're doin' real real well here..."

Chelsea looked back and forth. "And this is?"

"Leon Hogan" the younger man replied. "Though if Doc is anywhere near as reluctant to talk about me as he was about you..."

"Um...of course I mentioned Leon. He's someone I knew in Newark. Joey and I worked with him on that case back in September."

She brightened up. "Ah...THAT Leon! So what brings you here?"

"Joey didn't tell you?' Fritz shook his head. "He's the newest member of the North Team."

* * *

"...As it turned out, the Class 3 was identified as Nick, Leon's older brother, who'd died in a robbery back in '88." Joey told the assembled team a half hour later. "Leon agreed to help out in reasoning with Nick, finding out the truth-Blackstrom, the guy who hired us, was actually the robber who killed him."

The rest of the group eyed their newest member with suspicious eyes.

"I know Leon's not John." Fritz stepped forward. "But he's street smart, tough, and doesn't scare easily. If Joey and I didn't think he would be an asset to this team, there's no way we would've asked him to be on it."

Joey added. "And make no mistake-he may be one of Fritz's old friends, but I agreed with this idea. In fact, I was the one who thought of it first, not Fritz."

Leon was wearing his newly-commissioned flight suit, the standard GBI tan, but the orange GBWC "no-ghost" logo and the chest patch reading "HOGAN" were obscured by the black jacket he insisted on wearing over it.

"Look, I don't know any of you guys yet." Leon finally said. "But I imagine since you've worked with Doc for like a year now you know this guy's nuts, but he's got your back, right?" There were several nods. "Don't think I'm gonna be any different."

"Welcome to the team!" Otter finally said. "Think you can get me a jacket like that? I bet the chicks dig it..."

"Names Mike Chad, but call me Chad. Or Mister Clutch-cause when I'm around nothin' goes wrong."

"Ignore him." Andy rolled his eyes. "An authentic Yankee huh? This'll be interesting..."

"Dr. Kyle Stevens. Nice to meet you-I'm the team doctor."

Jeff just shook his hand. They sized each other up.

"There is one more thing..." Joey interrupted. "This is Dr. Will Ketcham, formerly of the Maryland Ghostbusters..."

"Formerly?" Robert asked, pulling out a cigarette. Leon pulled out a lighter and handed it to him.

"A little problem with slime clogging up the bay led to us getting sued and shut down. Wasn't even our fault-damn bureaucrats..." Will answered.

"Ta-ry having Der Terminator in charge of your state" Peter replied in a thick Austrian accent. "So do you have a little brother named Ash?" he added, in his normal voice.

"Ahem...Dr. Ketcham is now in charge of Ghostbusters Independent, the umbrella name of GBI's independent agents."

"We asked him to find us a new Mobile Agent. Ron is irreplaceable, but hey, we're used to having a great big group around and like having that flexibility." Joey explained. "Since Will accompanied Leon here, I'm hoping that means that, maybe, you found someone?"

"Yeah." Will replied, starting to grin. "Me."

Even Joey looked a little surprised.

"You guys are getting quite the reputation, especially after that pyramid incident. The Nightsquad or UK guys would argue with this, but you're in the running for GBI's best franchise right now."

Andy coughed loudly.

"Okay, Nightsquad, GBUK, or East Tennessee...anyway, I talked it over with Louis and Professor Spengler, and they agreed it would be a good idea to...y'know, sorta keep my feet wet in field work with a franchise. Since Maryland is kaput and New York is kinda crowded, we thought of here-especially since as a 'part timer' I can keep up with GBIndependent stuff."

"You're the guy who came up with the TOBIN network, right?" Jeff asked.

A couple of the Ghostbusters looked at each other. Will seemed just a tad embarrassed. "Well, yeah...Professor Spengler and Dr. Stantz helped with the coding, and let me upload a lot of their database, but...yeah...I guess that was my baby."

Joey looked pleased as he slapped Will on the back. "Quite a surprise, Will, but a pleasant one. I guess this makes it official-the GBWC is back up to full strength."

* * *

**May 24, 2004**

* * *

_Why are you putting my friends through this? Haven't they suffered enough with the loss of one of our own? _

_Shut up Host. You're constant struggle to keep me under control is failing and you know it. Your mental barriers are weak, and I will break them in no time. And I care nothing about the one that died. I never knew him. At best he would have made a good snack._

Jeremy Hicks awoke, sweat pouring from his temple. His nostrils flared and his teeth gritted. His eyes glowed red for a second...and a very feral tone came from his throat...

* * *

"Now, get my good side this time, Boris-last year you made my nose look fat..." Joey was teasing the photographer. Boris Meely was an old friend of Peter Venkman's-they'd met on a case way back in 1985. While Meely (who, more than one GBWC member noticed, looked a lot like a skinnier version of Ray Stantz) hadn't been impressed with Venkman at first (in fact, he kind of thought he was a psycho) they'd became reacquainted ten years later, when Venkman was working as a Hollywood agent. Meely became Venkman's publicity photographer of choice, and now counted Ghostbusters International among his contracts.

"Joey, Boris didn't make your nose look fat-your nose did that all by itself." Andy retorted.

"I really wish you'd lose the jacket for the publicity shoot." Fritz chided Leon.

"Hey, I want people to recognize me, Doc." Leon replied.

The various members of the Ghostbusters West Coast were forming in the former warehouse's garage area with their vehicles, the ECTO-1N (the practically required 1959 Cadillac Miller Meteor replivehicle, this one particularly styled similarly to the New York office's car when it was known as "ECTO-1A") and the ECTO-1S (a converted SWAT van). All of the Ghostbusters were wearing their tan flight suits; Otter was in his usual overalls (but at least they were _clean_ overalls for once); Chelsea was dressed professionally in a purple sweater vest and skirt. She was currently adjusting Fritz's collar.

"We all ready to go?" Boris asked.

"We will be as soon as J works his ass down here..." Jeff replied.

"I reminded him about it yesterday." Joey added. "Maybe I'd better make sure he's all right" He thoughtfully turned to Peter Kong, who was playing his Game Boy. "Hey, Pete, go dig up J, would you?"

Kong rolled his eyes, and walked off toward the quarter area.

"So is Dr. Vee gonna make it? He is back in LA. And we know he enjoys having his picture taken..." Boris joked as he adjusted one of the lights.

"Nah." Chelsea replied. "He's on a publicity tour for the twentieth anniversary of the movie-I even hear he's gonna be on Allmusic TV with Corkie again..."

"She's still with Allmusic TV? I thought there was a clause in your contract that they fired you once you hit twenty five..." Robert deadpanned, snuffing out the end of a cigarette.

"The tan looks good." Joey beamed, smoothing his flight suit.

"Meh. Lots a teams have their own colors." Andy replied. "Like my boys back in East Tennessee wear camo...those punks in Brooklyn wear the black and purple...and the big guys each have their own separate look. I keep thinkin' maybe we aughta' try something different..."

Joey looked thoughtful for a moment. "I dunno...I like it like this. Tan is the classic Ghostbuster jump suit color. It's what they wear in both the movies..."

"Well, though as Doctor Venkman pointed out once, only in the case of the first movie was it accurate. By the time of the Vigo crisis they'd switched to the mutlicolored uniforms, but somebody-he suspects Reitman or Aykroyd-preferred the uniform tan, so they kept it."

"True, Fritz. Of course, I gather that movie is a huge sore spot with some of the main office..." Will said.

Joey rolled his eyes. "Just don't get Mrs. Spengler started on it...I think she'd still throttle Ramis given a chance..." He looked up as he heard rushed footsteps. "Hey, Pete, J, about time you could...Pete? Where's Jeremy?"

Peter exhaled a few times. "His uniform was still hanging in his closet, but his room was a mess-clothes thrown onto the floor. And his duffle bag is gone!"

The assembled Ghostbusters looked at each other.

* * *

**LAX**

* * *

I'm sorry sir, there are no direct flights to England. There's one with a stopover in Atlanta, one in New York, and one in Toronto, the lady at the ticket counter said.

He remembered what had happened in New York a little over 20 years ago. He had no interest in Atlanta, but needed to see someone in Toronto.

The stop over in Toronto will do just fine, thank you, he responded with a smile. He could've swore that his smile made the lady blush a deep cherry red.

And what are you taking with you?

Just this backpack full of clothes.

And how will you be paying?

Credit card, he answered as he pulled it out and gave it to her. It was a GBI SuperCard normally for company business that he'd swiped from Joey's office. As he was waiting for it to clear, he had another conversation between his two halves.

_Why do you need to go to Toronto? _

_My last host was never this curious, so shut up. _

_Your last host didn't know what hit him until after you lost._

There was a fury of mental blows and attacks at every mental block Jeremy had put up to keep the thing from taking complete control over his body, and most of them broke like tumbling wooden blocks, some like a rock wall being blown up by dynamite, and the rest like tissue paper. And amist the debris, laid an unconcious mental image of Jeremy.

_That's why I told you to shut up, foolish mortal._

Then a barrier erected itself around Jeremy, imprisoning him in his own mind.

Your card has been approved. Have a nice flight Mr. Hicks.

Thank you. And you have a nice day yourself, he responded with a smile as he walked towards the terminal.

* * *

"I swept the room for valences-it does look like there were signs of a PKE spike in this area within the last twelve hours, though it's faded now." Fritz reported, the arms of the PKE Meter Version 3.0 low, lights dim.

Joey shook his head. "I thought this was all about what happened to John, but now I'm really beginning to wonder...this started right after the battle with Anubis..."

"You think this has anything to do with that?" Robert asked.

"I dunno..." Peter replied. "I don't know how to explain it, but...in that pyramid I could smell the trouble. Granpa Jake says maybe I finally got some of Dad's knack for it. What I'm getting at is that this doesn't smell the same..."

"There's only one way to know for sure." Jeff summarized. "We need to find J as quick as possible..."

"Chelsea will email GBI headquarters to have the rest of the franchises keep an eye open for him." Fritz said as he stowed his meter. "Hopefully, wherever he turns up, we'll find out about it..."

* * *

The next few hours were filled with being comfortable, relaxed, and treated like a king. He was used to being treated like this. He had been king of an entire race once...

But that was in the past. He had to prepare the gate for the coming of his master. Then he would be a king again, and all would bow down before him and his master.

And the mate his master made for him. He wondered what form she had taken this time, but he knew that she had good taste when it came to a host. He on the other hand kept taking what was ordained for him, descendants of ancient worshippers of his master. And they continued to be dorks, unaware of their potential for greatness...

Except this one. He seemed to be aware of his heritage, and seemed to be aspiring to the greatness ordained to him. But it was almost impossible without his friends and family.

He dismissed the thought for that was looking into a possible future, one where he and his master failed again. He needed to concentrate on the immediate future, and where he needed to meet his 'friend' in Toronto and what to tell her to do while he searched for his mate.

There were many memories of different women that had been in his life, but no one that would have been chosen. Then he came to the most recent memories, the time Jeremy spent with the GBWC. There was a memory with an unexplained vision of a woman that he had never seen before. That was it, she was the one.

She will be perfect. This time we will not be stopped.

* * *

Just what is up with Jeremy Hicks? The terrifying answer...

**Chronicles of Gozer**

(Coming soon to FFN)

* * *

Semi-Standard Disclaimer:  
Ghostbusters is owned by Columbia/Sony; Created by Dan Aykroyd and Harold Ramis. Developed for television by J. Micheal Straczynski  
Ghostbusters West Coast created by Vincent Belmont and Andy Harness; Characters are owned by their respective creators

* * *

#33124-42905f  
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